


Unlike a Sister

by madharmony



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Infidelity, Politics, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:25:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madharmony/pseuds/madharmony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nineteen years ago, Harry told Ron he saw Hermione as his sister. Now Hermione is in danger and Harry's feelings for her begin to change dramatically, jeopardizing everything he once knew. An Epilogue compliant fic. The MA version of UaS on FF.net for sex, language, violence, infidelity (emotional at first, eventually physical)</p><p>The more complete version of this story (19 chapters so far) can be found at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6574535/1/Unlike-a-Sister#</p><p>Future MA-rated chapters will be posted (uncensored) here while a slightly censored version will be posted on FF.net. At the moment, all story content is identical on FF and AO3. (4.27.13)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Words for Hugo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. No infringement intended.
> 
> A/N: This story takes place immediately after the Deathly Hallows epilogue, and it is compliant. It is also an H/Hr story though, about their subtly deteriorating home lives and the quest for authenticity with each other. It will eventually be rated M for sex and language. Hope you enjoy this first taste!

Harry stepped away from the platform. The steam was still rising from the tracks, obscuring the train in the distance. With a heavy heart that surprised even himself, he turned and looked at the remainder of his family. With his two boys gone, his eyes fell on his small, scarlet haired daughter holding onto his wife's hand.

Lily was crying piteously and Ginny was stroking the nine-year-old's hair. Ginny's eyes, however, were impatient and focused on Harry.

"Harry," she called. "We should head back. I still need to write up that report on the Cannons' game yesterday. Any later and the _Pitch_ will have it before the _Prophet..."_

Harry nodded. He cast a glance over his shoulder. The train was nowhere in sight. He started to move with the rest of the parents towards the exit of Platform 9¾. Just up ahead, he thought he spied the silhouette of a handsome, gangly man with his arm around a slight woman with slumped shoulders. The woman was holding the hand of a small boy stumbling over his own steps. It was undoubtedly his best friends Ron and Hermione with their son Hugo. Like Lily, Hugo was still two years away from riding the red steam engine to Hogwarts themselves. Without question, both couples would be dealing with an inconsolable youngest child on the car ride home. 

Harry thought of calling out to them, but the crush of parents and children had separated them and Ginny was saying something. 

"You'll have to fix supper tonight for Lily. I've got to stop by the office. I forgot I left the game stats there. All this preparing the kids for their send-off has made me so forgetful…" Ginny said as she fumbled in her bag with one hand and held on to Lily with the other. 

Lily's freckled face was blotched, her nose a shiny pink. Harry moved to her other side and took her hand. 

"That's fine," he said to Ginny. "Should I cook for you too, or just Lily?" 

"Just Lily. I might as well write the report there with some peace and quiet," she said as she pushed her way between two slow-moving couples, dragging Lily and consequently Harry in her wake. 

Harry nodded behind her head. He wanted to say it might be best for both of Lily's parents to be present tonight. After all, Lily had just been made a de facto only child. Harry didn't want to have to deal with the ramifications by himself. By the time his mind shifted to what meal would make Lily the happiest, they were at the entrance back into King's Cross. He held Lily's hand more tightly and stepped through the portal. 

As Harry opened his car door, he heard someone shout his name. "Oi, Harry!" 

As he turned, he saw a shock of orange hair moving towards him between the parked cars. It was Ron followed closely by Hermione and Hugo. 

"I'm parked just over there," said Ron, pointing to the far end of the parking lot. 

Harry could just make out their blue Audi coupe in the distance. It had been Hermione's choice to buy that car. Ron had preferred something slightly more garish, the latest generation Hummer to be exact, since he thought it would be hilarious to drive that monstrosity down the narrow alleys of London—not to mention the obvious magical flourishes it would take to park the car. Harry much preferred Hermione's choice. 

"Ron!" Ginny called, smiling as Ron reached her. The two embraced. "How are you going to deal without little Rose in the house?" 

"We'll manage," Ron smiled a bit sadly as Hermione sidled up to him. Harry glanced at Hermione's face. Her eyes were clearly bloodshot, but she was smiling as well. Lily gave a pathetic whine from the backseat of Harry's car, a gleaming black Mitsubishi. 

"Well, you'll be over for dinner on Wednesday?" Harry asked, turning to Ron. 

Wednesday was usually the day Harry took off early from the Auror Department in the Ministry. He usually spent the day down at the Auror training facility, supervising the training of new recruits. That usually left him free by lunch time, and he'd visit Ron at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes before heading to either his or Ron's house for dinner. 

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied. "I think it's yours and Ginny's turn to host?" 

"Right," said Ginny. 

"Okay, we'll see you then," said Harry. He turned to Ron, who was closest to him, and clasped his hand. 

Then, Harry noticed Hugo holding on to Ron's trouser leg. The boy's look of utter dejection was almost comical and Harry felt the desire to comfort him. 

Kneeling down as he had with Albus only moments before, he came face to face with the small boy—a perfect mixture of his two best friends. 

"Hey, cheer why don't you?" Harry said with a smile. "The year is going to fly by, and Rose will be back in no time. Just focus on acing all your classes so you'll be ready when you do go to Hogwarts." 

"I hate my classes!" Hugo muttered. 

Above them, Harry heard Ron chuckle and Hermione hiss. 

"Well, math and reading are important too. You can't do anything as a wizard without that," said Harry reasonably. 

He could understand why Hugo found all his classes boring. Magical children under the age of eleven were not allowed to own a wand. Thus, Hugo and Lily went to the same wizarding preparatory school in central London, where they learned the Muggle basics of math, reading, and writing. Necessary skills, but understandably boring in comparison to the Hogwarts curriculum. 

"Yeah, Hugo," said Ron from above Harry. "At least you're not a Muggle. That's _all_ you'd be doing the rest of your life." 

"Hey," said Hermione softly. "That's not so horrible…" She was teasing. 

Harry smiled and turned back to Hugo. "Well, you'll be at Hogwarts soon enough. When you come over Wednesday, bring your Firebolt and we'll fly around at my house. How'd you like that?" 

Hugo beamed widely and blinked a few times. The kid was still a bit star struck around Harry. "Sure Uncle Harry!" 

"All right, all right," said Hermione. "That'll be _after_ you finish your schoolwork _and_ I look it over." 

"Now tell Uncle Harry goodbye, Hugo," said Ginny. "I've really got to get going. My Chudley report…" 

"Ugh, why report on that?" said Ron, disgusted. The Chudley's had lost their last four games, ruining an unprecedentedly good season for Ron's favorite team. While he and Ginny were briefly wrapped up in Quidditch talk, Harry kissed Hugo on the forehead and stood up. 

Hermione was smiling at him. 

"All right," Harry said to her. "See you Wednesday night then, if not at the office on Monday." 

"Right. I imagine I'll have to stop by the AD sometime on Monday. The whole Callahan situation is getting sort of serious. So keep an owl out." 

"I will. Maybe we can grab lunch. It's sort of a touchy subject at the office, understandably." 

Ginny and Ron's conversation was quieting. 

"Okay well, goodbye," said Hermione. She leaned in and kissed Harry's cheek. As Harry brushed his lips by her ear, he heard Hermione say _"thanks."_

It was so soft, only Harry heard it. She squeezed his elbow before turning away. 

"Harry, c'mon!" Ginny called, moving to the other side of the car. 

Harry watched Hermione and Ron disappear and moved to open his own car door. As he turned the keys in the ignition, he heard Lily cry out again in the back seat. 

"I'm all _aloooone,"_ she sniffled. 

Harry turned to Ginny. She rolled her eyes. 

"No you're not, sweetie. We're here," Harry said. 

With that, Harry moved his car out into the rush of traffic, using a little magic to get past the red light. 


	2. Wine in the Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling  
> A/N: Getting some nice early responses on this story. Please feel free to review! I appreciate your thoughts.

Ginny had disapparated over two hours ago. Harry didn't expect her back until late that night. Ginny usually took a great deal of care with her articles; it was the reason she was one of the best sports writers in wizarding England. The _Prophet's_ sports section had been a joke when she got there. Now, her work was largely the reason the _Prophet_ had become the new standard in sports reporting. However, her talents also meant that Harry would be eating alone with a very distraught Lily tonight.

The moment Harry parked the car at their large estate, Lily had jumped out of her seat and ran inside. She was now locked inside Albus' room, most likely crying on top of his bedspread and taking in the last few whiffs of her brother's scent on the sheets. Lily was somewhat closer to James in temperament than Albus, but Lily still loved her middle brother dearly.

Harry wasn't too worried about her, though. He could hear her moving around up stairs. At one point, he was sure he heard bouncing bed springs, suggesting that Lily wasn't so depressed as to resist jumping on her brother's bed.

It was early into a Saturday evening now. Harry had settled into his chair at the kitchen table, occasionally bringing a cup of coffee to his lips. He had pulled some files out of his attaché to look over before he started cooking dinner. He was distracted, however.

His heart felt hollow.

Both of his boys were gone. He loved Lily with his whole person, but Albus was somehow special to Harry. For one, the boy looked like him and had the same unassuming and humble nature. James, on the other hand, resembled Harry's late father in more than just his name. He was confident and boisterous, and apparently had already been involved with a number of girls at Hogwarts. He had bright, brown eyes that were actually quite captivating—as if he was plotting something deliciously mischievous.

If James resembled his namesake in countenance and composure, Lily was a mixture of both Harry and Ginny. Her hair was a deep red, her eyes a soft gray. She still had a slight lisp, which made her somewhat hesitant among strangers. Yet, she was like her mother – bold and demanding, never afraid to voice her opinion among her family members. Like her father later in life, she was cautious to make judgments and detested extreme opinions.

As for Albus, what could Harry say?

He saw himself in his second child. The boy was scrawny with the same shock of jet-black hair and bottle-green eyes of his father. Of all his children, and Harry hated to rank them, he knew that Albus was the most intelligent. He resembled Hermione in the rapidity of his thoughts, but had the sense not to be annoying about his breadth of knowledge. Since he was five, Albus had devoured books with abandon. And he was non-discriminating when it came to literature—fiction and non-fiction, wizard and Muggle classics, news and Quidditch magazines. Harry was sure Albus would excel far beyond anything Harry had ever accomplished at Hogwarts…

The word "Hogwarts" brought him back to recent events. He glanced at his wristwatch—half past seven. He was sure the students would be seating themselves in the Great Hall now. Maybe Albus and Rose were standing in the anteroom, deathly afraid about marching in front of their peers to be Sorted. James would be among his posse of friends at the Gryffindor table, waiting to catch a glimpse of his brother and whisper some wisecrack. Deep down, Harry knew that James would be praying Albus ended up in Gryffindor…

Harry took another sip of coffee. He looked at the files before him and sighed.

_Might as well get to it then._ Harry heaved himself to his feet and walked towards the icebox. He sighed again at its near-empty state. He pulled out a catalog of _Witch's Brew_ and summoned four chicken breasts, some tomato paste, and angel hair pasta.

He siphoned the pasta into a bowl with his wand and placed it over the stove.

_"Incendio,"_ Harry toned and a fire ignited beneath the pot.

Next, the tomato paste went flying into a smaller pot and Harry lit a weaker flame beneath the sauce. As he was dashing the chicken with pepper and spice rub, there was a small 'pop' behind him.

He turned on a pin, startled. Hermione and Hugo stood before him.

"Oh, hello!" Harry cried.

"Hi, Harry. I'm so sorry to bother you and Ginny. Hugo here was pretty insistent on seeing Lily, though. I think he doesn't want to be stuck with me at home," Hermione smiled.

Harry looked down at Hugo. The boy still looked depressed and Harry took pity on him. Lily had dealt with the separation of one brother before, but Hugo was new to the departure of a sibling.

"Well, you can try Hugo. Lily's locked herself in Albus' room, but maybe if you ask real nice, she'll let you in?"

"Okay, Uncle Harry!"

With that, Hugo pulled his hand out of Hermione's and dashed up the grand staircase in the direction of Albus' room.

Harry turned to Hermione. "I'm actually really glad you're here. Ginny's writing that damn article at the office. I was hoping she'd be here to talk to Lily—she's always better at that stuff than me."

"Having Hugo here should help," Hermione said simply. "Cooking?"

"Yeah, just chicken and pasta," Harry said, turning back to the stove. "You and Hugo want to stay for dinner? I summoned enough chicken and I can summon some more pasta."

"Ginny is coming for dinner?" Hermione asked.

"She said she wouldn't. I don't blame her. The Prophet keeps the sports office stocked with all sorts of junk food…makes them never want to leave. The hours those guys have..." Harry remarked as he shot a stream of water into the sauce.

Hermione laughed behind him. He could hear her pull out a chair at the table.

"We really aren't the sort of people who should talk about hours, Harry. Before you became head of the AD, Ginny always complained you were never around. You still have insane hours, come to think of it."

"That's true," Harry said as he placed the chicken in another pan full of butter, onions, and mushrooms. "I could say the same about you. Don't know how many times I've left the AD at eleven and seen your office light still on…You'd think after all this time we'd want some time off."

Hermione chuckled again. "I'm a workaholic. What's your excuse?"

"Habit? I don't know," Harry sighed as he flipped the chicken. An enchanted spoon was slowly turning the pasta sauce in a clockwise direction. "I keep looking around this place and see so much I want to redo, you know? The carpet in James' room is filthy. Lily's room is too small by half but she doesn't want to move down the hall away from us. Ginny's and my room could use a repainting. And the library downstairs needs to be organized, re-shelved, refurbished…re-everything!"

"With that, I'm happy to help," Hermione smiled. "Look at you, Mr. Fix-It. I didn't know all this was bothering you. You know I think your house in gorgeous. With twenty-three rooms you can't expect to maintain all of them. You could hire some people to spruce things up?"

Harry extinguished the flames on the stove. "Yeah…no. There's too much sensitive material in this house. Maybe that's just my paranoia talking, but having strange wizards poke around my home doesn't set well with me."

Hermione nodded. "No, I get it. Maybe before Christmas we can make a project of it or something. You, me, Ginny, and Ron—it'd be like the old days at Grimmauld Place."

Harry hissed. "Yeah, that's when I know this place is falling apart. When you compare it to Grimmauld Place!"

Hermione's laugh rang out again. "You know that's not what I meant…"

Harry chuckled to himself. The utensils were arranging themselves on the table.

Harry turned to Hermione. "I'm sorry—did you say you and Hugo were eating with us? What about Ron?"

"Sure, we can eat here. Ron's at home watching the Harpies game, so I doubt I can pull him away," Hermione sighed. "Since we're talking re-modeling, he'd likely suggest you upgrade your entertainment room with one of the new Wall-Projected Magic-Vision screens. Until you do that, he won't be coming over during game time."

Harry grinned. Regrettably, he'd fallen miserably behind this Quidditch season. Work never seemed to give him a free moment to fully enjoy something as simple as a Quidditch game these days. He envied Ron for that a bit.

"That is a great set-up you've got though, at your house," Harry said judiciously.

Hermione made a retching noise. "Ugh, please. That thing drives me up the wall. It's huge, loud, and an eyesore. Thank God you don't have one in your house…how does Ginny feel about that?"

"Well, whenever a game is on," said Harry, as he ladled the pasta onto the four plates on the table, "she usually goes down to the _Prophet_ to watch it. They basically have Ron's set-up on steroids. Screen takes up the entire wall, self-immersion magical technology, and running stats on the bottom."

"Sounds _great,"_ said Hermione, drawing out the word.

Harry smiled, slipping the chicken cutlet onto the last plate. He patted Hermione's head as he passed her. "Poor you. You really picked the wrong group of friends didn't you?"

"Ha! More like I picked the wrong country. Only England is this Quidditch-obsessed, honestly. If we were in the States I'd have to watch Stratagenesis all the time…"

"Mmm, maybe. They're just as obsessed about that as we are about Quidditch. Like wizard, like Muggle."

Hermione smiled widely at that. The phrase had become a slogan in the days after Voldemort. "Like wizard, like Muggle."

Part of Harry's work at the AD included consulting on how to end Muggle stereotypes in the wizarding media, which included awareness campaigns conducted by several prominent Muggle-borns (including Hermione) to increase wizard familiarity with Muggle customs. The overarching message of the campaign was to hammer home the _similarities_ shared among Muggles and wizards. Hermione had also been instrumental in the formation of a new Ministry department, the Department of Wizard and Muggle Exchange, which offered a few scholarships to Muggles and wizards alike to trade places and experience life on the other side. So far there had been no need to Obliviate any Muggles. All of them have kept their word to keep the existence of wizards a secret.

"Shall I call the kids?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded as she walked towards the icebox to take out some mango juice, Lily's favorite. Out of the corner of her eye, she say Harry's patronus, a silver stag, dart up the staircase towards Albus' room.

Hermione sucked in a breath. "That's always caught me off guard."

Harry smiled bemusedly.

"You know, that you use a patronus to call your kids to supper? That's when you know your house is too big," Hermione explained.

"Oh, I guess you're right," Harry stammered, passing a hand through his hair. "I figure it's less startling than apparating in their mid…."

The light patter of feet flying down the staircase cut off his words.

"SPAGHETTI!" Lily exclaimed, rounding the corner into the kitchen. A breathless and giddy Hugo was just behind her.

"Yes, yes—wash your hands first, honey," Harry said.

Lily moved towards the sink. "Daddy!"

Harry swished and flicked his wand and Lily rose several inches off the ground so that she could reach the taps. Harry directed her safely to the ground again with his wand.

Harry looked to Hermione and saw that she was waving her wand above Hugo's hands as a stream of ice blue water dangled below her wand. Hugo stuck his hands in the glob and began scrubbing his palms.

"Well, what's this now?" Harry asked, surprised.

"It's a new spell," Hermione explained. "I've been using it with the kids at the park recently. I just combined a simple water spell, a sanitation charm, and plasticity element together, and voila. No muss, no fuss, and clean hands."

Harry raised an eyebrow. This wasn't the first time Hermione had "invented" a spell. She'd been doing it a lot since she left Hogwarts. Technically, spell creation was a licensed and registered affair at the Ministry, but in this matter Hermione didn't follow the regulations. When it came to her kids, she was pretty laissez-faire.

"Right. Well, teach it to me later."

  


Thankfully, dinner progressed without one mention of the missing siblings.

Hugo and Lily were absorbed in conversation about their classes and other meaningless drabble, at least to Harry's ears. His food was complimented. Hermione moaned a few times about how Ron had never mustered the energy to make anything this good. When the kids had cleaned their plates, it was past nine and time for bed.

Harry was a loving, but somewhat strict, father. He had both Lily and Hugo clean their plates with soap and water, when a simple _Scourgify_ spell from him or Hermione would have worked just as well. It wasn't that he didn't want to help them in their task, but he reckoned understanding the menial way of doing things was important. Soon they would have the use of magic and things would become all too easy for them. It was one of the biggest problems he faced in communicating to wizards the difficulty of Muggle life. If he couldn't teach his own kids how to manage without a wand, how could he expect the entire wizarding world to respect Muggles? In any case, none of his children had put up much of a fight. Hugo looked a bit warily at the sponge when it was his turn to wash his dishes, but Harry was largely infallible in Hugo's eyes. Washing his own plate wouldn't change that.

"Daddy? Story tonight?" Lily asked, pulling at Harry's hand as he magicked the plates back into the cupboard.

"Uh, sure honey," Harry answered. "Why don't you go pick one out and I'll be up in a little bit?"

Before Lily could leave the kitchen, however, Hugo had turned to Hermione and asked, "Mum, can I hear the story too? I like it when Uncle Harry reads the stories."

Hermione looked to Harry and he smiled, letting her know it was okay.

"Sure, go upstairs with Lily and we'll be up in a few minutes," Hermione replied.

The two children scampered upstairs, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

"Thanks for that," Hermione said. "I think it's good for them both if they don't dwell on the others leaving. Hugo was uncharacteristically quiet when we got home. Being around Lily seems to help."

"I know what you mean," said Harry as he rinsed his hands in the sink. "I think Lily was crying for a good half hour in Albus' room. Though, I'm not especially worried. Albus is great at writing letters—it'll be a good opportunity for those two to build up a correspondence."

As Harry dried his hands, Hermione moved towards him. "I agree," she said. Then she hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder and slid it down to his hand. "I…Albus is so like you…I was wondering, are you okay…with his leaving?"

Harry was startled. He looked at her quickly; her eyes were soft behind thick lashes.

"I—" Harry began.

"Daddy!" A high-pitched squeal reached their ears.

"Coming sweetheart!" Harry shouted, and the two made their way towards the stairs.

  


Lily had picked one of Hermione's favorites, _Peter Pan_. It was one of the many Muggle classics littered around Lily's small, pink room. This book, however, was a wizarding edition of J.M. Barrie's story, meaning that Peter and Wendy literally flew out of the window on page eight and Hook dramatically fell into the belly of the crocodile by the end of the story.

Despite the smallish proportions of Lily's room, her bed was roomy. Since they had known each other since birth, Hugo and Lily had no qualms about snuggling together on the bed, holding the book between them as Harry stretched out next to Hugo and read. Nestling Lily against her chest, Hermione leaned back against the headboard. She slowly braided Lily's hair as Harry read.

Harry was about to reenact the rousing cheer of the Lost Boys upon the death of Hook when Hermione reached over and tapped him on the arm. Hugo and Lily were already sleeping, Hugo's grip loosening around the book's spine. Harry instantly hushed his voice as Hermione gently pulled Lily off her chest and lowered her to the bed.

Harry returned _Peter Pan_ to Lily's white bookshelf and followed Hermione out into the hallway.

Harry ran a distracted hand through his hair. "We can leave them there for a bit. Would you be up for a glass of wine before you leave?"

Hermione sighed, looking down the hallway. "If I was smart, I would head home now and get to work on that Callahan brief. Ron probably wants dinner if he hasn't made something for himself already—most likely deep-fried Sherbet balls," she smiled.

"I know what you mean," said Harry, looking down as he dug his shoe into the carpet. "I'm supposed to be looking over the quarterly review. They need my comments on Tuesday. Haven't read a page."

Hermione smiled at him, but started heading down the hallway towards the main landing above the grand staircase. The lights were dimming magically. "Well, we are past the days when I could have covered for you," she said with a light laugh.

Harry smiled as he followed behind her. She stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs and turned to Harry. "I'm up for a glass of wine."

Harry nodded. "All right. Red or white?"

"Red."

"I think I've got a Malbec and a red Riesling in the kitchen. What do you prefer?" Harry asked, descending the stairway slowly.

"Malbec, you?"

"Same."

Hermione settled herself in the library as Harry poured the wine into two stemless glasses. Carrying them into the dimly lit room, he saw Hermione curled up on the antique récamier. He handed her a glass and seated himself in the leather armchair he usually reserved for leisure reading.

"I love your collection," Hermione said, gazing at the books the lined the spacious room as Harry kicked off his shoes and lowered his feet onto the ottoman.

Harry chuckled. "I know. But you know I mostly have Sirius to thank for that."

"Yeah…" Hermione agreed. "You lucky bastard. You inherit all this great shit and don't even bother to take care of it," she teased.

"I do bother!" Harry cried, indignant. "I just, you know, never have the time. Neither does Ginny—in any case, she sort of sticks to the modern parts of the house—the exercise room, the kids' rooms, the entertainment room."

"Yeah, I guess I can't blame you. The two of you are exceptionally busy…I guess we all are."

Harry smiled, remembering something he had overheard in the AD the other day. "Yeah, especially you! I heard you were up for a promotion? Hermione Jean Granger. Made general counsel in four years. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in another ten?"

Hermione giggled. "I can assure you that's a scurrilous lie."

"Well, what's the truth?"

Harry thought he saw Hermione uncharacteristically blush. "I don't know the truth. I can say that John Lakey has approached me about making me Deputy of the Department. I told him I would have to think about it."

Harry stared. "Wow, Hermione. That's great. Guess they've finally tacked on to what a genius you are."

Hermione seemed to glow slightly redder. "Great wine by the way!"

Harry chuckled. "Don't try and cover up your pleasure, Hermione. I know you love the compliments."

Hermione laughed in turn. "Well, I certainly won't turn them down from you, Harry. But in all seriousness…I haven't made up my mind about it. There's Hugo to consider. I'm already afraid I'll become a non-presence in his life and can I stand to become even more burdened before he leaves me for Hogwarts…"

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I know," Harry replied slowly. "I feel the same about James. About Albus."

The mention of Albus' name triggered the previously interrupted conversation in Hermione's mind. "You didn't answer me before…about how you're taking his leaving?" Hermione broached carefully.

Harry swilled his wine for a moment, a deep red orb in his hand. "I…I feel like I understand Albus through and through. He is me to some extent—a me if I had had a completely different childhood."

Hermione nodded. She had noted the startling similarities as well, not just in appearance but in character. Albus was strong-willed and stubborn like Harry but he was also sacrificial and possessive of his siblings. He had the same unassuming politeness and gentility as Harry even at eleven.

_"I_ feel like I know him. But just recently I began to think what if he doesn't know me?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, sitting up slightly.

Harry had his elbows resting on both knees, his wine glass held loosely in his hands. "Well, you mentioned it before. Ginny said I was never around when they were little. I was still making my way at the AD. You remember. For a while we thought Voldemort's former supporters were forming an insurgency. I was never at home and to be honest...I didn't want to be at home. I was addicted to the adrenaline in those days. I didn't want it all to be over.

"I think I was finally jolted out of it when I saw James for the first time. He was eight weeks old and the instant Ginny put him in my arms he started crying. And he literally _would not stop._ I know you can't put much store in what a baby does, but I felt absolutely horrible." After a moment, Harry laughed lightly. "I think Ginny wanted me to feel that horrible. I deserved it, after all."

Harry grew quiet, so Hermione ventured a response. "But things got better once you were made Head…"

"I know. Things were better, but I still had those crazy hours. Some days I would come home just as the children were eating breakfast. They were so wonderful, kissing and hugging me like I was back from a war and not the office. Ginny told them I was working very hard for them.

"But I came to realize…they're first education of who their father was didn't come from me. It came from kids in nursery school who looked up when they heard their last names. When I made it to school functions, I'm sure they noticed how all the teachers and other parents treated me differently, you know? The only normal people were you and Ron."

Harry took in a slow breath and looked up. He seemed unchanged, perhaps only somewhat bereaved. His face was red but that was probably from the wine. "So," Harry continued, "all the kids had different ways of dealing with that. James loved to play up the famous Harry Potter stuff. When he was six he had me reenact the final battle with Voldemort, as if he couldn't quite visualize how _Expelliarmus_ could defeat the greatest dark wizard of all time.

"Lily loves the 'daddy' aspect of me. She doesn't really care what I do or where I work as long as I do 'daddy' things with her—read her stories, buy her toys, teach her how to fly. And then there's Albus…"

Hermione stared, transfixed, as Harry heaved another enormous sigh. It seemed to rattle through his whole body, shaking his hands.

He looked up at Hermione again, this time smiling. "You're going to think this is odd, but I really think I named Albus well. He has those piercing eyes, just like Dumbledore's. I feel like they go _right_ through me. Even at a young age, I felt like Albus understood the famous version of me and the daddy version. So all he was trying to do was figure out what I really was. It's my own fault that I was never around enough for him to figure it out…and now he's at _Hogwarts."_

Harry spit out the last word like a curse. Hermione was startled. Was that the first time she had ever heard him refer to Hogwarts without a loving caress in his voice?

Hermione wasn't entirely sure if Harry needed comforting, even as Harry brought his hands up to his face. From what she knew of Harry, his children were always constant concerns. But she never guessed that they were causing him this sort of psychological worry.

Hermione got to her feet and padded over to Harry. She sat down on the ottoman before him and pulled his hands away from his face. He looked exceedingly tired.

"Harry, darling," she said softly, "you are an _exceptional_ father. Your children adore you not because you are famous but because you are theirs. They have their whole lives to know you—you simply can't despair that they never will. You have raised them to be wonderful children and you should be proud of that!" she chided, trying to meet his gaze.

He didn't seem to want to look at her. Hermione's hands slipped to his knees. He remained silent so Hermione tried a different tack.

"Harry, I've felt the same way about Rose and Hugo. Rose is so bright. People always say 'just like me.' But she has always much preferred Ron. Hugo is a darling, but I know he doesn't understand his mother. Maybe it's not for children to _know_ their parents at this age—"

Harry was shaking you head. "I'm sorry, Hermione. It's not the same," he said, smiling ruefully. "Have you forgotten I've been to your house hundreds of times? You care for them so well because you're so on top of everything. You always have things under control. You succeed at parenting just like you've succeeded at everything. I don't begin to match up."

Hermione let out an undignified scoff. "Please, Harry," she said, patting his knee. "I am far from having things 'under control.'"

Harry seemed to give a genuine smile, at least a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He lightly touched her hair, this time taking a strand between two fingers. "You see? You don't even realize how great a parent you are," he said, shaking his head.

Harry's words seemed to settle in Hermione's brain at a slower pace than usual. When she took in his words, Hermione laughed again, standing up. "When did we become those people who only talk about their children?"

Harry stood up as well.

"I don't know…" Harry pretended to ponder. "There _must_ be something else to talk about?"

A slightly awkward moment was created by their positioning between the ottoman and armchair. Harry felt his chest lightly graze Hermione's before he took a forcible step back, moving the chair with him.

Hermione looked to the clock above the mantelpiece. It was a quarter til eleven. "Well, I should take Hugo home. Thank goodness it's Saturday. At least I have one more day to get that brief done."

"You're telling me," Harry commiserated. "Done with your wine?"

Hermione looked at her glass, half-full and abandoned on the side table by the récamier. She walked over to it and without a second thought swiftly drank the remainder.

Harry smiled. "Careful, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry reached for her glass. After Harry had replaced the wine he and Hermione slowly ascended the stairs, feeling a bit warm and pleasant as they took each step.

As they reached the top, Hermione paused. "Have you told Ginny about all this? How you feel about the kids?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "No, I haven't. I…I don't want to say she won't understand... Ginny understands me." Harry hesitated, struggling. "But she's so involved with it, you know? She knows first-hand how I wasn't there…she'd probably think I'm being ridiculous…which I am."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not ridiculous. I don't want you to worry over nothing. You should tell Ginny though; she deserves to know what you think, right?"

"Sure," Harry agreed. "Have you told Ron about the Deputy position?" Harry countered.

Hermione looked at the ground. "I haven't. I was hoping that particular rumor would stay within the Ministry until I made up my mind."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed just slightly. "Are you going to take the job without asking him about it?"

"No, no. I'll definitely consult him…"

Harry let out a snort.

"What?"

Harry grinned, moving towards the corridor. "Nothing. You just have a funny way of speaking sometimes. 'Consult.'"

Hermione didn't ask for further clarification as she followed Harry to Lily's room. Lily and Hugo were just as they had left him, except that Lily arms were splayed out across the bed. Before entering the room, Hermione turned to Harry.

"Well, have a good night," she said.

"You as well," Harry replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Hermione gently pressed her lips to his cheek, her cheekbone lightly brushing against glasses.

"I'll see you Wednesday then?" Harry said, pulling back.

"If not Monday."

"Oh yeah," said Harry. "Well, give Ron my best?"

"Sure, and Ginny mine?"

"Of course…and remind Hugo about his Firebolt on Wednesday."

"Sure, sure," Hermione said out of habit. A second later, she looked back at Harry. "Thank you for suggesting that. It was exactly what he needed."

Harry smiled at her. Hermione squeezed his elbow once more, as she had at King's Cross. She stepped into Lily's room, took hold of Hugo's wrist, and disapparated.


	3. The Callahan Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling.  
> A/N: I hope your enjoying the story. Please send me reviews. I enjoy hearing your thoughts!

"Chief?"

Harry looked up as his secretary Gwendolyn Fuller peeked in the doorway. "Yeah. What is it?"

Harry had been feeling harassed all morning. When he floo-ed into work at six, he was greeted by what turned out to be an unplanned press conference. The news had gotten out Sunday night that there had been an instance of "excessive force" by one of his top Aurors. The Prophet and several other prominent publications were asking for a comment from the Chief of the Auror Department. He spent the rest of the morning in his office, ignoring the whizzing inter-departmental memos zooming around his light fixture.

"New report from Stonehouse. No developments," Gwen said as she slipped a thin file onto Harry's desk.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the file and looking up at her. "Hey, Gwen. Come here; close the door."

Gwen shut the door, looking curiously at him.

"Go ahead and sit down. I want to ask you something," Harry said as he leaned back in his chair.

Gwen seated herself on the leather couch that faced Harry's desk. The light from the mottled glass ceiling above gave her face a freckled glow.

"What's the mood out there?" Harry asked.

Gwen sighed. "I really can't tell you, Chief. Some think the Ministry is in the right, discharging Callahan from the AD and snapping his wand. But you know what kind of pull he had around here. A lot of them don't like the way things are progressing. A lot of people don't believe he would do that. They say he's being set up as an example..."

"Right," Harry said, pursing his lips. "Is that sentiment directed towards anyone in particular?"

"Not in the Auror Department, per se," Gwen replied, looking apprehensive. "I mean Callahan acted alone. He didn't take anyone down with him. I think the anger is probably directed towards Magical Law Enforcement and perhaps the Minister."

Harry wanted to ask if _he,_ Harry, was seen as pursuing the Callahan case too hard. But he resisted. He could tell by the stiff manner of his fellow Aurors this morning that many of them thought he was abandoning one of the Department's most trusted and effective Aurors to the crusading tendencies of the government prosecutors down the hallway.

"Well, thanks. I'll read the report and we'll move from there. Keep the memos on your end, will you, unless they're important?"

"Sure thing, boss," She said moving towards the door. She flicked her wand at the ceiling and the the memos immediately queued up into a neat row like ducklings following their mother. "Counselor Granger should be here by noon."

"Thanks," Harry said, glancing down at his watch. Quarter past eleven.

Somewhat dubiously, Harry glanced at the yellow folder Gwen had left on his desk. He slid it across the surface and pulled back the cover. The file was marked _Top Secret._

The first page included a summary of Callahan's case. Callahan had been on assignment in Cainscross on August 29th. Seven days ago. There had been rumors that the perpetrator of a recent spate of robberies in Diagon Alley could be holed up there. The situation became more serious when the alleged assailant was identified as an ex-Voldemort supporter, one Deedrick Rudge. Cainscross was his hometown. No one, including Harry, expected Rudge to flee to the place of his birth and so Harry sent Callahan to the area alone, as Callahan was already in the vicinity.

What happened next made no sense to Harry. The report stated that Callahan arrived at 9 Ashway Court, Rudge's childhood home, at eleven that night. He had found a Muggle family inside who had never heard of Deedrick Rudge. For some inexplicable reason Callahan did not seem to believe them. The rest of the report was rather gruesome. According to the report and Callahan's most recent interrogation yesterday, Callahan tied up the Muggle couple's two children—a girl of fifteen and a boy of twelve. He performed illegal and invasive Legilimency on all four of them, demanding to know Rudge's whereabouts. The couple pleaded that their children to be left alone. It was at that point Callahan used the Cruciatus curse on both of them. Before he left, Callahan performed a violent version of the Memory Charm. Each member of the family had suffered significant memory loss and possible brain damage.

When Harry got word of the attack he had the family quietly relocated to Saint Mungo's in hopes that the Healers could restore their memories. A week later and there was no progress. The teenage girl was still in a magical coma.

Harry flipped through Callahan's most recent interrogation. A line in his testimony seemed to jump off the page.

_Callahan: I was happy to do it. The regulations these days...they bind the hands of an Auror. If it were a wizard, no one would have batted an eye if I used legilimency. Only if it's Muggles does this Ministry seem to have a problem. They forget who they represent._

There was a knock at the door.

"Chief Potter, your twelve o'clock."

Hermione stepped into the room. Harry quickly took in her appearance. She was wearing a tight, pinstriped dress. A matching half-cape hung askance on her small frame, leaving one shoulder bare. The skirt stopped just before her knees, directing Harry's eyes downward to her red heels. A red scarf was tied around her neck. Her hair was loose, but neat.

"Thanks, Gwen," Harry said as his assistant sidled out of the room. Harry stood and walked towards Hermione. He briefly kissed her cheek. "Well, you look good. What's the occasion?"

Hermione smiled. "Just an unrelated hearing. I've just come from there." She looked around the office. "Should we start here?"

Harry stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. "You know, why don't we go to lunch? I don't know if you noticed but the atmosphere is tense in here today."

Hermione nodded. "So that explains the cold reception I just got."

Harry smiled ruefully at her. "It's not you, darling—just your department in general. Let me grab my coat."

  


Despite the strained mood in the Auror Department, Harry and Hermione received quite a few waves and "afternoons" as they made their way across the Ministry's Atrium. Harry chanced a glance at the fountain at the center of the enormous hall. It was a round orb, the earth. Impressed into its surface, almost as if they were sinking into it, were the figures of a wizard, witch, Muggle, centaur, goblin, and house elf. They're hands were linked. Crystal water ran from the northern pole of the orb and slid down the crevices of the statues' faces.

Harry and Hermione squeezed themselves into a red telephone booth and ascended to the street level. Hermione's back was pressed against his chest and Harry had to lift his chin a bit to keep his face out of her hair. She smelt faintly of lilies and new books.

They stepped into the deserted alley and Hermione turned to him. "What are you feeling? We could apparate to Diagon Alley or we can just wander about here?"

"I feel like Muggle food. I don't know about you?" Harry ventured.

"Sure," said Hermione. "Have any cash on you?"

Harry dug into his wallet for a moment. He looked up at her, laughing. "Two quid. Sorry."

"It's fine," Hermione said briskly, reaching into the pocket of her cape and removing three galleons. "Come stand by me."

Harry moved towards her, shielding her wand from view. Hermione transfigured the three galleons into three 10 pound notes. Hermione replaced her wand and stepped away.

"Sure that'll work?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course," Hermione said distractedly. "They won't even know. I made sure it was permanent as well—they'll be able to use the money forever."

Harry smirked sardonically. "I think I'm supposed to point out—just as the head of the Auror Department—that counterfeiting money is illegal in Muggle England."

"Pish posh," Hermione laughed. "We're in a recession. The laws of economics state the more cheap money the better."

Harry chuckled as they made their way down the alley. They emerged into the sunlight of a busy, central London avenue. Businessmen on their lunch break were crowding several well-known establishments, forcing Harry and Hermione into a relatively vacant Vietnamese restaurant.

As the waitress left with their orders (two bowls of Pho), Harry tried to delay the inevitable conversation. "You look very nice today, I think I said?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. "Not my usual trousers and button-down, I know."

"I like it," Harry said honestly, bringing his bubble tea to his mouth.

Hermione smiled sweetly. "Well, don't get used to it. I can't pull off heels everyday, even with Morton's Heel Pain-be-Gone."

Harry didn't know why he said what he did next. "Ginny wears heels everyday."

Hermione nodded. "Well, that's because Ginny is just baller that way. Three kids and she still looks fabulous."

Harry laughed at her use of slang. It was sort of cute...in a Hermione way. "You don't need to wear heels if you don't want…. You look just as wonderful."

Hermione blinked. There was an awkward pause, interrupted by the arrival of their food. They slurped their Pho in companionable silence for a few minutes. After a moment, Hermione looked up at Harry and said, "We should probably get to talking about what we've been avoiding."

Harry put down his spoon, resigned. "Right."

"I don't like it any more than you, Harry," Hermione said, fiddling with her purse. She pulled out a sheaf of paper and a ballpoint pen she kept on hand just for Muggle environments. "But, I will need your comments on the matter, for my report."

"Right," Harry said again. "Just tell me what Lakey decides and don't move before you discuss things with me."

"I won't," Hermione assured him. She grasped her wand in her cloak and muttered _"Silencio."_

_"Muffliato,"_ Harry whispered.

"All right. First tell me your understanding of the facts. When did you send Callahan to Cainscross? What did you tell him to do there?" Hermione asked, pen poised.

Harry took a sip of his soup. He glanced at her face—her eyes had that spark in them—she was "business" Hermione. He didn't like to be on the receiving end of that look.

"Well," Harry began with a sigh. "We received a tip from a witness at Diagon Alley after the robbery on the 29th. It was the shopkeeper of the witch's boutique next to the apothecary. She said she had seen a man in a brown cloak running from the store. He had a baldhead and a scar running along his scalp, upwards from his ear. I didn't receive the report directly—it went into the interpool. One of my Aurors said she recognized the description as Deedrick Rudge. She was dispatched to the shopkeeper for a follow-up interview. When she returned it was about four that afternoon. I confirmed the details with her and asked for a background search. She gave me his standard file. I wrote down several locations to monitor, including his last known whereabouts in London, his girlfriend's residence in Leicester, and his childhood home—at Cainscross."

Hermione was scribbling away, barely looking at him.

"I then sent out a national dispatch, ordering all available Aurors within 50 miles of these locations to contact Headquarters immediately. I sent five Aurors to the London location. Two went to Liecester. Only Callahan was available anywhere near Cainscross. He had been in Gloucester, following up on an unrelated lead. At this time, it was probably eight in the evening. I spoke to him directly via patronus. I gave him the address—9 Ashway Court. He replied that he would do some initial reconnaissance of the area and report back to me within an hour. By 'reconnaissance' we both understood that to mean he would scope out the area. At most, he could use de-mystifying charms to determine if there was any notable deception in the house. If he found anything, he was to report back to me immediately and I would issue an entry warrant. When I finished speaking with him, he seemed completely in his senses.

"As I think has been reported in the papers, no one expected Rudge would return to his childhood home for sanctuary," Harry said, frustrated. "I certainly did not. I imagined that Callahan would go to the address, perform a few auditory-enhancing spells and anti-deception charms, and determine there was nothing amiss. In all honestly, I didn't expect him to report back. Theo Callahan has an independent streak in him. There have been times when I've known he's been sent on a meaningless task and he likely won't report back until the next morning. So, I left the office that night around 10, leaving the overnight staff with orders to contact me if Callahan sent his report to Headquarters. I apparated home—I helped Ginny with the wash. The kids were leaving for school in two days, as you know. I went to bed without hearing from Headquarters."

Hermione put down her pen and took a sip of her now room temperature soup. "Okay, and when you heard of the attack?"

Harry winced, embarrassed. "I actually got the report from the London Muggle station chief. He had received a report of strange activity in Cainscross. He's one of the few Muggles who would recognize wizard activity on paper and the signs were all there—all four family members passed out in their sitting room. No memory of the events. The severity of their memory loss was also a cause for alarm.

"I receive a phone call from Commissioner Hewett at 6:30 that morning. I linked up the address on the police report with my orders to Callahan—of course, they were the same. I sent Aurors to the scene, had the family removed from the local clinic and transported to St. Mungo's. At the same time, I was trying to find Callahan. We eventually found him at the Leaky Cauldron of all places. He didn't seem at all perturbed that we'd come to arrest him. And that was all."

"Have you spoken directly to Callahan since?"

"No. I was there for his discharge in Stonehouse. Lakey was there to snap his wand. I signed some papers and disapparated. Lakey told me he wants to keep him there for the time being, as he'll likely have to be tried there. I'll be visiting tomorrow."

"Right," Hermione said. "And this is the full account of your involvement in the Callahan matter?"

"Yes, counselor," Harry replied.

Hermione considered Harry for a moment. "Okay, then. I should tell you that Lakey's asked me to come with you two to see Callahan. He's letting me take the lead on this case."

Harry looked up, startled. "Are you…are you sure you want in on _this_ one? It'll be all over the papers in the next few weeks. You know the punishment for Muggle torture…"

"I know," Hermione replied, replacing the paper into her purse. She took down the silencing charms and the din of the café pressed against their ears. "That's _why_ I want in on this one," her reply ferocious.

Harry looked away uncomfortably; his eyes settled on the window behind Hermione's head. Men in business suits and women in brightly colored dresses were flittering by. "Hermione," he said slowly, "have you read the most recent interrogation of Callahan?"

"I have." Her face was like stone.

"Then you know…from the looks of things, he has some anti-Muggle opinions."

"I reckoned as much."

Harry waited for her to say more. She remained silent. "Hermione…you know that if he really did what he's accused of he deserves everything that's coming to him. But you should know that he has his allies in the Ministry, not least among the Aurors."

Harry paused before continuing, his voice low. "Truth be told, we have all used 'excessive force' at some time or another," Harry said, looking down. "I include myself in that—restraint is one of the hardest duties an Auror…"

"Then _you_ should teach them restraint, Harry."

He could tell she was angry with him.

Hermione continued. "And there are degrees of excessive force. I know you've used legilimency without authorization, but you've never used the Cruciatus. You've never Obliviated without cause."

Harry looked down.

"We can't make excuses for people like Callahan, Harry, no matter how talented or well-respected the wizard."

Harry's brow crinkled and he looked back at Hermione. There was bright gloss over her brown eyes. "Hermione, I understand your concern. Believe me, I won't spare any Auror in my department who behaves like Callahan in the future. But you haven't spoken to him directly. You haven't worked with him for eight years; in all that time, I never knew him to say a harsh word about a Muggle or a Muggle-born."

Hermione glared at him for a moment. Then, her face relaxed. "I know, Harry. I certainly don't want to give you the impression that I won't give Callahan a fair hearing. I will. But if it turns out to be true, I'll go after him with the full weight of wizarding law behind me."

Harry gave Hermione a half-smile. "Of _that,_ I am sure," he said.

  


Harry and Hermione left their money on the table. The sky was darkening above them as they walked towards the alley.

"Remind me to pay you back," Harry said.

Hermione giggled. "In what? Transfigured currency?"

Harry chuckled.

"Don't worry," Hermione said lightly, "I repaired their cappuccino machine when you weren't looking. I can somewhat confidently say I saved them a hundred quid."

"Ah, I see. Hermione Granger always finds a way to be moral...just like that time during our seventh year when you left those Muggles money when we stole bread and eggs from their farm."

A gust of wind down the alleyway pushed Hermione and Harry closer together. Hermione placed her hand in the crook of Harry's arm. "Simple common decency," she said, teasing.

Harry smiled as he opened the door of the booth for Hermione. She dialed the number as Harry latched the door shut. This time they faced one another in the cramped interior of booth.

As they descended in the darkness Hermione said, "So, we'll be going to Stonehouse tomorrow? Where exactly is that?"

"Well, it's near Wales—near the Forest of Dean."

The light from the Atrium began at their feet and worked its way up.


	4. What's Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling
> 
> A/N: Hey guys. Thank you to my lovely reviewers thus far. You guys really motivate me to keep writing and the more reviews I receive the more I can write! Best wishes this Christmas! PLEASE REVIEW!

Upon a directive from the Minister, Harry caved in and gave a few quotes to the _Prophet_ regarding the Callahan case. Thus, Harry found himself standing in the large press-room adjacent to the Atrium. He tried to be as forthright as possible about what he knew, but there were certain answers he thought best to keep obscure.

"Do you know what spells Callahan used on the Muggles, Chief Potter?" a doughy gentleman asked Harry.

"I'm not a liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation," Harry said for the fourth time.

"Chief Potter," a young female reporter asked, "do you know who the public prosecutor will be against Callahan?"

Harry's mind flew to Hermione. He paused. "That's a question for the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I leave it to his good judgment." 

 

Harry gathered his things in his darkened office.

It was past ten o'clock and about a dozen Aurors remained in their cubicles. As Harry passed through the Atrium, heading towards the massive stone fireplaces on either side if the hall, he looked up towards the Magical Law Enforcement Department. The department had offices facing out into the Atrium, and while Hermione's office did not, he thought he saw a faint glimmer through the windowpane that corresponded to her office down the hall.

Minutes later Harry was standing in the hearth of his own fireplace at home. He was shaking the soot off his robes when he heard footsteps approaching.

"Hey, Gin," Harry sighed. He put down his attache as Ginny moved towards him. She pulled him into an embrace and then stepped back.

"I wish you had told me you were going to be so late," she said. "I had to call Mum to watch Lily while I was at the Tornadoes game."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, tired. "I didn't plan for things to take as long as they did. It wasn't too much trouble for Molly, was it?"

"Oh no. She was happy to do it," Ginny said as she turned and headed towards the kitchen. "Do you want me to fix you anything? Mum left some casserole in the fridge. Looks really good—at least I think it put Lily in a food coma."

Harry chuckled. "I'm all right, thanks." He looked up towards the stairs longingly, his bed calling to him. "I think I'll head up to bed. I'm exhausted…"

Abruptly, he remembered his trip to Stonehouse. "Oh, but darling I might –"

Ginny cut him off with a gasp. "Oh, Harry! How could I forget to tell you? I got an owl from Albus today. He was sorted into Gryffindor! Isn't that wonderful?"

She embraced him again and Harry patted her back. "That's great news."

"Poor dear," Ginny was saying. "So worried he would end up in Slytherin. I think your little talk on the platform may have calmed his nerves. Did you really _ask_ the Sorting Hat to be placed in Gryffindor?"

Harry smiled half-heartedly. "Sure, I asked. I was deathly afraid of Slytherin myself."

"So that means the Hat was actually _thinking_ of putting you in Slytherin?"

"Yes, I think it was," Harry answered truthfully.

"Ugh Harry! Thank God it didn't," she exclaimed, sticking out her tongue.

Harry had to smile at the childlike gesture. "Oh, it's really not that bad. I'm sure I would have managed—just as Albus would have managed."

"Please," said Ginny, shaking her head. "Don't even think about it."

She turned towards the kitchen and Harry followed slowly. When she got to the table, she turned back to Harry. "Oh, and little Rose is also in Gryffindor. Good on the Hat to keep our family together."

Harry smiled. "Yes, now all we have left are Lily and Hugo."

"Yes, yes," said Ginny absently as she cleared some of her papers off the kitchen table.

"I'll have to write to Albus before I leave," Harry said, leaning against the doorjamb. "I'll likely be on assignment all day tomorrow, so please don't worry about supper."

"Assignment?" Ginny perked up. Harry hadn't been on an assignment in several weeks. Moreover, the word "assignment" usually meant Harry couldn't give any specifics.

"Right. I understand…" she paused. "This doesn't have to do with the Callahan situation, does it? So ridiculous the fuss they're making. Just give him a reprimand and be done with it."

Harry was glad Hermione wasn't in the room to hear that.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, unfortunately," Harry replied, shrugging. "In any case, I'll be away most of tomorrow. Hermione will be too."

Ginny stopped sorting her papers. "Oh? She's working on the same case?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "Just this once. I think her boss is testing her to see if she can take lead on the case. I spoke with her today. She's pretty passionate about the subject…"

Harry thought he saw Ginny roll her eyes slightly. "Well, she would be."

Harry, not sure what to make of Ginny's comment, said, "Um, so please don't worry about dinner. I'll likely be back in the late evening. If you could leave me some of Molly's stuff, that'd be great."

Ginny smiled and walked towards him. "Sure, darling. You look tired. Go get some sleep and wake me up when you leave?"

"Okay," Harry replied, his mind already in bed. He kissed Ginny goodnight—he could faintly smell the Quidditch pitch in her clothes. "Good night. Love you."

Minutes later, Harry slipped between the sheets of his and Ginny's massive bed; he was glad for the quiet. He drifted to sleep almost instantly.

 

Harry awoke at 5:30 that morning.

He fumbled around for his glasses on the side table and slipped them on. He looked to his right and saw Ginny's slim frame lying several feet away from him. Their bed was a 17th century estate bed with large ivory hangings. It was notable for its size—about 16 feet across. Harry once measured that it took eight full roll-overs to travel from end to end. This morning, Harry shuffled over to Ginny's end and placed a kiss on her temple.

"Darling, I'm leaving."

Ginny mumbled incoherently.

Harry kissed her again and she moved her face away. Harry smiled slightly. Ginny was not much of a morning person. In all the times she had told him to wake her up when he left for work, she was usually too groggy to kiss him goodbye.

Harry gently kissed the corner of her lips and moved out of the bed.

After a quick shower, some coffee, and a piece of toast Harry was in his office by a quarter past six. He packed some files into his attaché and walked down the corridor towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He found Hermione and the head of the Department, John Lakey, waiting for him.

"Mornin', Harry," Lakey said with a jovial wave.

Lakey was a husky man with ever-present stubble on his round yet somehow well-defined face. He was some fifteen years older than Hermione and Harry and a veritable legal genius. He was one of the intellectual founders of wizard-Muggle integration legal theory and thus had his enemies among the wizarding public, despite the fact that he was a pureblood stretching back seven generations. It was well known that he was Hermione's professional mentor.

As Lakey grasped his hand, Harry chanced a glance at Hermione. She was dressed much less formally than the day before. She wore dark green corduroy pants and a gray tweed jacket over a delicate white blouse. Lakey waited until Harry had greeted Hermione with a kiss on the cheek before he spoke.

"Harry, I hope you don't mind that it'll only be my people down at Stonehouse today," Lakey said. "Certainly you understand that since he is no longer an Auror this is out of your jurisdiction. Hermione insisted you remain involved, however."

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I appreciate that, John. Once the details of the case are released to the public, there's likely going to be an overview of Auror recruitment and training. My involvement now could help ease the transition."

"I'm happy to help you in any way I can, Harry. You're the most reasonable Chief of the Auror Department I've ever worked with," Lakey laughed. "I'd break my wand before I jeopardize your position in the Department—though, the world would have to go raving mad before Harry Potter is pushed out of the Auror Department."

Harry smiled automatically. He had never taken his appointment as Chief of the Aurors for granted; yet, it was a running joke in the office that his position was a lifetime appointment after the defeat of the Dark Lord.

"Harry," Hermione said. "John and I would like to give you a rundown of the timeline from here on out. After our evaluation of Callahan today, he will be assigned an attorney for his arraignment, which will be in four days' time. We'll get the court date then and move from there. Obviously that means the details of the case will be made public and we'll have to prepare for the fallout. We've already made the decision that Callahan will be tried in the Gloucester Division of the Wizengamot, so as to avoid the politics of a trial here in London."

"Fine," Harry said. "I'm all for keeping this trial as apolitical as possible. Obviously the obscure nature of the facts means that the whole case is open to misinterpretation. I'll likely put a media blackout on my department. No Aurors will be commenting on the case—does that sound fair?"

"It's more than I could ask," Lakey replied, looking at Harry. "Thank you."

Harry nodded. "Should we get on with it then?"

"Sure," replied Lakey. "We'll be apparating to the same location as last time, Harry—the holding cells at Stonehouse. You can take Hermione, as she's never been…"

Harry moved to Hermione's side and took hold of her hand. He glanced quickly at her face. She smiled nervously at him and steadied her breath. For a moment, Harry was transported to a time when Hermione would often give him that look—usually right before they were about to do something truly dangerous, like rescue an Azkaban escapee or infiltrate the Ministry of Magic.

A second later, Harry and Hermione were standing in the dank interior of an underground room. There was a small 'pop' behind them and Lakey appeared.

"All right, follow me," Lakey directed. Hermione moved forward, her hand still in Harry's. She did not let go until their eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

Lakey took them to the end of a hallway where two wizards in dark suits were talking quietly and sipping steaming cups of coffee.

"Director," said the younger of the two men, acknowledging Lakey. They were obviously attorneys from Lakey's department. "He just woke up fifteen minutes ago. He should be presentable for your interview."

"Thank you, Stahls. I take it that Wilkes will be arriving shortly?"

Harry spun sharply on his heel to face Lakey. "You called _her_ in for this?"

"I had to," Lakey said, with an offhand glance in Harry's direction. "It's the only avenue we haven't tried. Stahls?"

The younger man was staring at Harry, as though transfixed. The Director's words brought him back to himself. "Sir—yes, I believe she said she would be here within 10 minutes or so."

"We had best wait until she arrives then," Lakey sighed.

Lakey turned from the two young lawyers and Harry and Hermione followed him a short distance away.

Harry's eyes were sharp as he turned them on Lakey. "You didn't tell me this would be a magical evaluation. How did you get him to consent to this?" Harry's eyes widened. "You haven't received consent, have you?"

"Harry," Lakey said calmly. "Mr. Callahan has been more than forthright in all of his interviews so far. We are bringing in Wilkes because we are confident that Callahan will consent to the evaluation. If he doesn't, then we won't proceed, shall we? There's no need to worry—remember it's our job to cover these sorts of bases."

Harry was still fuming. Hermione reached out and clasped his arm. "Harry, please don't worry. We have to know what we're dealing with, don't we?"

Harry glanced at her, feeling somewhat calmer. "Of course…but a magical evaluation…this won't be well-received in the Auror Department."

"We'll leak that information slowly Harry. Not in the arraignment filing papers," Lakey said. He looked past Harry's shoulder and glared.

Just then, Harry felt someone tap him on the shoulder. It was the younger lawyer, Stahls.

"Mr. Chief Harry Potter…sir," he said somewhat breathless. "M'name is Donald Stahls. I was wondering if I might have your autograph, sir? I have a young daughter and son at home who'd be thrilled, you see? For some reason, you've become their hero. Not that you need a reason! I certainly don't, I mean…I'm sure you get it all the time. Please, if it's not too much trouble?"

Hermione released Harry's arm. "Don, really?" she asked incredulously.

Harry laughed at the look on Hermione's face. "Sure, Don. I'd be happy to. Have any parchment on you?"

The young lawyer produced parchment from his robes so fast that Harry would have missed it if he blinked. Lakey was chuckling now.

"They're names are Al and Eugenie," Stahls said. "If you could say something about keeping on their schoolwork and minding their mother, that would be great."

"Sure," Harry said, removing a quill from his cloak. "I have a son named Al. He was sorted into Gryffindor just yesterday."

Stahls looked like he just might keel over in pleasure with that nugget of confidence from Harry Potter.

Hermione smiled at Harry.

"There you are," Harry said, handing Stahls the parchment. The young lawyer stared at the paper and then back at Harry. For one horrifying moment, Hermione thought he would _bow._

"That's enough now, Stahls. She's coming," said Lakey curtly.

Stahls retreated to his desk and Harry, Hermione, and Lakey turned in the direction of the darkened hallway. The sound of footsteps clattering off the stone reached their ears. The silhouette of a slight woman emerged in the wet darkness. She was much shorter than Hermione—half Asian, half English with short black hair cut in a straight line and high cheekbones. She was wearing a black cloak over her equally black clothing.

"Annie," Lakey said, approaching her and kissing her on the cheek. "Thanks for coming. We'll get started now."

The woman stopped and looked at Harry. Her face broke into a knowing smile. "Harry, so pleasant to see you once again."

Harry nodded awkwardly.

"You haven't called for me in so long, I was wondering if you forgot about me?" the woman said.

"Not at all, Anne. We just cover things a bit more…methodically these days. You understand."

Her eyes were still trained on Harry. "Of course. But every once in a while I prove myself useful. I'd hate for you to forget that, Harry..."

She trailed off and moved in front of Harry and Hermione, following Lakey down the hall.

Harry glanced at Hermione. She had a slightly sour expression on her face. "Guess you've never met her before?" Harry ventured.

"No…is it normal to get a creepy vibe from her?"

"From Annie Wilkes?" Harry considered. "Yes."

Harry and Hermione followed the pair back down the hallway. As they passed the desk with the two young attorneys, Harry heard their whispered argument.

"I can't believe you did that," said the lawyer whom Harry did not know.

_"Shut up._ I got it, didn't I?" said Stahl proudly.

 

Lakey escorted them into another darkened hallway, stopping before a small and sterile cell. The lighting was dim inside, but Harry could make out Callahan's body lying across a narrow bed.

_"Incendio,"_ Lakey cried and light flew into the wooden chandelier hanging inside Callahan's cell.

The scene came into focus. Callahan was sitting up in his bed now. He was wearing the clothes he had been arrested in—they were crumpled after several nights' sleep. Usually clean-shaven, Callahan had noticeable gold stubble on his cheeks. His light blond hair stuck up at strange angles.

"Mr. Callahan," Lakey said curtly, "we're here for the final evaluation before your arraignment. Please stand against the back wall."

Callahan stood slowly. His eyes locked with Harry's as he took several steps backwards.

Lakey pointed his wand at the cell door and it swung on its hinges. He conjured five chairs, filling the small space. Lakey directed Callahan into the fifth chair. Harry, Hermione, Lakey, and Wilkes seated themselves side by side in the remaining four, their backs to the open cell door.

"Now, Mr. Callahan," Lakey began. "You have been formally charged under Article 9 of the Wizard Criminal Code of Great Britain with the severe mistreatment of Muggles. This includes violations of the Humane Treatment of Human Species and Variants, circa 1632, and the Muggle Protection Act of 2008. The charges include unauthorized entry into a private residence; the use of Legilimency without a warrant; the illegal use of Legilimency on two minors; the unwarranted use of Legilimency on Muggles; two counts of the use of an Unforgivable Curse, the Cruciatus; two counts of using an Unforgivable Curse, the Cruciatus, on a Muggle; four counts of the unauthorized use of an Obliviation spell; four counts of the use of an Oblivation spell at level five severity with the threat of irreversibility.

"You are endowed with the right to the legal counselor of your choice," Lakey continued. "Your family is entitled to earnings compensation for the duration of your trial. At your arraignment, you are entitled to ask for release on bail. You are allowed to seek visitation with your family and with a social worker. Do you understand the charges and the rights bestowed on you from wizarding law?"

"Yes," Callahan replied.

"All right. Thank you, Mr. Callahan," Lakey paused, passing a glance at Hermione. Her face was like stone, but Harry could feel the heat radiating off of her.

Lakey turned back to Callahan. "Do you have a counselor for your defense?"

"No."

"Would you like the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to appoint a counselor?"

"Sure."

Lakey and Harry shared a glance. "All right," Lakey continued. "We have received offers from three private counselors. Would you like us to leave you with information regarding each counselor?"

"You can choose," Callahan said calmly.

Harry felt Hermione shift at his side.

"Mr. Callahan," Lakey said, uncomfortable for the first time. "It is _pro forma_ that you choose your own counselor…"

"And _I_ am saying you may choose for me."

Lakey stared at the man before him for a moment. Callahan was reclining in the straight-backed chair Lakey had provided, his ankles crossed. He seemed perfectly at his ease.

"All right. As you wish Mr. Callahan. Moving on—the social worker appointed to your case is Ms. Gertrude Staub. She will be making daily visits before your arraignment and bi-weekly visits thereafter. She can answer any questions you have about incarceration conditions, food, visitation, etc."

Callahan nodded.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Lakey asked.

Callahan looked directly at Harry. "No."

Lakey took in a deep breath. "Thank you, Mr. Callahan. That concludes the first portion of our evaluation. Now…" he glanced at Hermione. "Now, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would like to request a _magical evaluation_ of your person. Ms. Granger?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Mr. Callahan, given the obscure nature of your case and the inability to obtain eye-witness reports of the incident, we are requesting a magical evaluation to be undertaken by a licensed practitioner, Ms. Anne Wilkes," Hermione gestured stiffly to the dark woman beside Harry. "With your consent, we will conduct the procedure presently…"

Callahan cut her off. "Sure, _Granger._ I have no problem with that."

Harry felt something seize in his gut, like a previously unknown reflex. The malice Callahan was able to load into that one word— _Granger_ —sent a bead of electricity up Harry's spine. He felt the sudden urge to stand between Hermione and Callahan, to pull his best friend behind him.

Hermione seemed unmoved. "I am required to tell you what the process entails. Ms. Wilkes will first place you in a magical coma. She will then use a combination of _a priori_ Legilmency and mental deconstruction of your person. This will allow us to determine whether you have been placed under any enchantment or curse that may have influenced your decision-making process the night of August 29th. The process will last for approximately thirty minutes and you will likely need to rest for the remainder of the day to regain full functionality. Do you understand this process? If so, please either reject or accept the proposal. Please understand you are under no compulsion to accept."

"I accept."

"All right." Hermione said.

Lakey stood and Harry followed suit. He was jumpy.

"Anne, I leave it to you," Lakey said. "We'll be right outside the cell."

Hermione brushed past both men and stepped out into the dank hallway. Harry moved more slowly after Lakey, looking first at Callahan and then at Anne. She gave him a level stare before she shot him a half-smile. Harry nodded to her and stepped into the corridor.

Hermione and Lakey were already further down the hall. Harry looked at them curiously. Lakey had both his hands on Hermione's shoulders. He had brought his head down to her eye level and seemed to be talking sternly to her.

Harry turned back to the cell. Anne had her wand out and was waving it in front of Callahan, who was watching her with a disinterested expression. Slowly, his mouth began to slacken. His arms fell to his side and his ankles uncrossed. Finally, his head fell backwards. Anne seemed to be shaking and she had both arms raised aloft. Harry heard a faint whirring sound, like an invisible current of electricity was passing between the two persons inside the cell.

Harry stared at them, not out of interest, but to distract himself from the conversation between Hermione and Lakey.

He had seen a magical evaluation several times before, especially as a new Auror. He had even conducted a few of them himself. In the days after Voldemort's fall, the Dark Lord's supporters used a wide variety of excuses to justify their actions under his reign. The Ministry soon discovered that it could not try every individual who had worked for Voldemort. Many of them had been acting out of fear for their own lives.

The problem, from a legal standpoint, was the few prominent individuals who had carried out particularly destructive orders—the murder of wizards and Muggles, torture, and rape, among other atrocities. A large number of the perpetrators claimed to be under the Imperious Curse, the favorite excuse after Voldemort's first fall from power.

However, technology had changed in the past 17 years since Voldemort's first fall. A new technique from America had made its way to England—a form of mental examination that determined whether an individual was indeed under an Imperious Curse. As the Imperious Curse ends with the death of the caster, these accused individuals claimed they had been cursed and were only brought to their senses with the death of Voldemort. The new examination allowed Aurors to put their claims to the test, as the procedure allowed the examiner to go back through the individual's magical past. The procedure had several advantages. For instance, in comparison to Veritaserum, a magical evaluation was vastly superior. Namely, people under the Imperious Curse were impervious to Veritaserum. The nature of the Unforgivable Curse allowed individuals to lie even under its influence. A magical evaluation, on the other hand, could account for such discrepancies and determine whether the individual was placed under any curse whatsoever. Needless to say, the procedure released a flood of evidence that led to convictions—half the cells in Azkaban were filled in such a manner.

However, the procedure came under criticism when it started being used on a more casual basis—on petty criminals, not war criminals.

The Prophet's editorial page liked to refer to the procedure as "mind-rape," before it was pointed out that this term too was insensitive. The press called it an insidious American import that was corrupting the humanitarian values of the British wizarding order. In response, the Wizengamot passed new regulations to control the procedure. Any practitioners of magical evaluations would have to be licensed by the Ministry of Magic. The expressed consent of the accused also had to be obtained. Since the procedure could be performed indefinitely on a subject (to the individual's first use of magic as a child), temporal limits were imposed to restrict examinations only to the point where the crime was actually committed. Moreover, the longer the procedure the longer the recovery time for the examined individual. In a few early cases of the procedure, some individuals never recovered their full mental functionality. That obviously had ramifications for legal prosecution.

The temporal limits obscured the background of the crime, including such facts as whether the accused received support from other wizards and other details that could have led to more convictions. Now, the procedure was merely used to determine the presence of an Unforgivable Curse, not to piece together a case history or search for additional people to hunt down. This last restriction faced fierce resistance from the Aurors, including Harry. In those days, the threat of a post-Voldemort uprising among his remaining supporters was a palpable threat. To Harry, and many others in his department, the procedure was an unfortunate necessity.

That being said, Harry hated the procedure.

The few times he had conducted a magical evaluation were incredibly uncomfortable. Harry did not apply for a license when the new regulations came out. Conducting the evaluation itself was somewhat like watching a murky filmstrip in reverse. The magical details were exceptionally sharp, however. Harry could vicariously feel every spell the individual had cast—and since all of the individuals he had conducted the procedure on were dark wizards, the experience was understandably painful. When Harry took charge of the Auror Department eight years ago, he stipulated that every Auror who wanted to use of the procedure had to seek permission from Harry, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the Head of the Department of Inculcation of Wizarding Values. Understandably, the red tape led to a decrease in the procedure's use.

And here Harry was watching the procedure again for the first time in years. He didn't like to think of the reaction several Aurors would have when they found out Callahan had been subjected to a magical evaluation. And Harry had to admit, he felt uncomfortable watching an individual he had always been friendly with undergo such an invasive process…

Hermione was standing beside him. Harry turned to look at her. Her face, so flushed moments before, was uncommonly pale. Instinctively, he placed his arm around her shoulders.

"Are you all right?"

She leaned into him slightly. "I'm fine."

Harry looked down the hallway. Lakey was standing underneath a candelabra; he was scribbling something onto a sheaf of parchment.

As Harry turned back to face her, Hermione sensed the question pushing against his lips. "He wants me to get my emotions under control. I have to admit he's right—I was practically boiling earlier…this is harder than I thought," she sighed.

Harry rubbed her arm. "You may have been a bit heated, but you performed your role flawlessly, Hermione. You don't need to apologize for being passionate about this—you'll be prosecuting him after all. But Lakey's right that a cool head might make your job easier in the long-run."

"You're right," Hermione replied. "I didn't give in on one thing though."

"What's that?"

"John wanted to appoint the most inexperienced of the three counselors who offered to defend Callahan. I can't agree to that…. We have to give him the best lawyer possible. So, I made John choose the most renowned counselor on the list. I can't give myself an undue advantage. It wouldn't be right."

Harry nodded in agreement, but he felt his stomach begin to coil into a knot. He understood Hermione's desire to have a fair fight, but in that moment, he really wanted Hermione to face an inexperienced lawyer—someone who could make this case a slam-dunk for Hermione. It wasn't that he thought she couldn't win—Hermione had one of the best track records in the Department. No, it was that he couldn't shake the feeling that Hermione was in danger. He stroked her arm again on instinct.

"Anyway, I know the counselor we've chosen. Not personally, but by reputation. He's a mean bloke, I can tell you. He retired five years ago and has a thing against Muggle-borns. It won't be easy, but this case is worth it, don't you think?"

Harry nodded. If possible, his stomach coiled even tighter.

Abruptly, Hermione changed the subject.

"So this Wilkes woman – how do you know her?" she asked.

Harry blinked. "Oh, the AD used to contract her services a few times a year, just for this procedure. I haven't seen her in about a two years. That was the last time we had a case with an ex-Voldemort follower…"

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. "I thought you knew her personally."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I did _know_ her in a sense, when I was much younger… You remember when Ginny and I broke up for a while? When I was 21 or so?"

"I remember," Hermione said.

"Well," Harry smiled awkwardly, "Anne and I dated for a while …or more accurately, we slept together for a while."

"Ah," Hermione said, her grin a little tight. "That explains the flirting earlier. I knew I wasn't wrong about that."

"Yeah, she's sort of like that. Fortunately, we don't see each other too often."

"What did you mean when you told her, 'we do things more _methodically_ these days?'" Hermione asked, looking up at him.

"Well, just that we try to avoid the kind of procedure she specializes in. Plus, her services are pretty expensive. From what I've heard, she's mostly contracted out to the U.S. and several less savory countries that don't have the rules we have on magical evaluations."

"I see."

Harry and Hermione stood in silence for a while, watching the subject of their conversation. Anne's hands were still suspended in the air. Her slim body was swaying back and forth slightly. Callahan remained unchanged.

"Harry…?" Hermione asked, wrapping her arm around his waist. "How do you feel about all this? I mean—I'm trying to look at things objectively. I'm trying to understand who this man is, why he could have possibly committed the crime we're accusing him of."

Harry sighed. "Hermione…in all honesty, it's hard watching this. I've known this man since I became Chief of the Department. I've been out to drinks with him. He's very charismatic and persuasive and that makes him effective. He was the one I sent to the Minister of Bulgaria to extradite an ex-Voldemort supporter. He never complains; he can do the work of two Aurors easily. His family seems very nice. I don't know what else I can say…he was a good Auror until this."

"He never had any character flaws that you knew of?" the lawyer in Hermione asked.

"He has his flaws, but we all do, don't we?" Harry said, looking down. "I mean…yes, he could be a bit stubborn about his orders, but never anything close to insubordination. He hated busywork—he thought it was beneath his skill as a wizard. So, I tried to keep him occupied. As I think I told you, he would send in late reports when he didn't think a case was worth his time. But that's a common personality trait in Aurors—perhaps it bothered him more than others…"

Hermione looked back towards the cell, satisfied for now. Soon, they heard Lakey walking back in their direction. Harry and Hermione separated and stepped away from each other.

"I've got a minute left," Lakey said, looking down at his wristwatch. "They should be coming out of it any moment. Let's go."

The three stepped back into the cell and Lakey removed the remaining four chairs with a flick of his wand. The whirring sound Harry had heard earlier seemed to be fading. It was now just a distant buzz. Callahan's eyelashes were fluttering and Anne was standing solidly on the ground again. After a few more seconds, Anne lurched and almost collapsed to the ground. Harry caught her elbow to steady her.

Her eyes fluttered open and she clung to Harry. Lakey took a step towards Callahan, who had not moved. Lakey checked his pulse and gingerly lifted up one of his eyelids.

_"Harry,"_ Anne breathed, "thank you."

"Harry," Lakey called a moment later. "Help me move him to his bed."

Harry released Anne. He picked up Callahan's feet and Lakey and Harry swung Callahan onto his cot. Callahan seemed to come-to slightly as they laid him down. His eyelids snapped open and he raised a hand lazily to his eyes, as though blocking out a harsh light.

"Ss—all right," Callahan muttered.

"Yes, it's all right," Lakey said, leaning over Callahan. "How are you feeling?"

Callahan stared at Lakey without answering. Then his eyes moved past the Director and landed on Harry. "Potter," he muttered. "Potter—"

Despite himself, Harry leaned in closer. Hermione came to his side.

_"You let this happen…"_ Callahan said in a surprisingly decipherable mumble. "You've let Muggles and mudbloods in… you've let them."

"Do they usually talk this much after?" Hermione asked, alarmed. She turned towards Anne.

"They do sometimes. It depends on the person," Anne replied simply.

Hermione's question caught Callahan's attention. "You—I know you…yes, you're that Muggle bitch. The one that's famous. Married a pureblood and won't even take his name? Ms. _Granger._ We'd be better off without you—people will see that soon. Better off."

Hermione's face was impassive as she met Callahan's eyes. "We'll see about that, Mr. Callahan. I suggest you prepare yourself for what's coming your way."

With that, she turned and calmly walked out of the cell, her shoes making an even _clack clack_ on the flagstones.


	5. The Forest of Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling.
> 
> **A/N:** First off thanks to my reviewers! I really enjoy your feedback and I'm happy to answer any questions you have here in the Author's Note. So, I'll take the time to answer two reviewers now:
> 
> **To Sapo08:** You raised some really great questions. Unlike a lot of other fics that instantly portray Ron and Ginny in a bad light, I feel like it might be more realistic if it's still apparent why Harry and Hermione married them. This fic will undoubtedly be an H/Hr fic so have patience! Harry and Hermione are smart people; they wouldn't have married horrible people. To your other question, I hope the beginning of this chapter can explain the sort of danger Hermione is in. Ron will be making more appearances in the next chapter.
> 
> **To jimmycranberry:** Thanks for your notes on the grammatical errors. I'll try to go back and fix them when I can. I hope they weren't too distracting to the story! I understand your note about the Americanisms, etc. but I've decided not to be too finicky about that. In my last story, New Beginnings, I was much more tedious in using British phrases, but I found that sort of restricts my own voice. So while I appreciate the thought, I'll be sticking to my organic voice in this story. As you'll see, I pull liberally from both book and movie verse. New Beginnings would be better for what you aptly describe as "brit-picking."
> 
> **Fair warning:** There will be a slight lemon at the end of this chapter. Unfortunately, not the one you're hoping for. So please be patient! Otherwise, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Please read and REVIEW!

_Hermione._ Harry stood up, lurching towards the cell door.

"Harry," Lakey called out harshly. "Wait for me in the hallway please."

Harry glanced at Lakey. For a moment, Harry felt like ignoring him and chasing down Hermione anyway. He relented, however, and sulked out into the hallway.

He could hear Lakey muttering something to Callahan. There was some shuffling and Lakey's next words were for Anne. "Can I expect a report by tomorrow? Lunchtime at the latest?"

"Yes, Director," Anne said. "It won't take long. I did a thorough review. He wasn't under the Imperious Curse."

Harry turned away from the cell, unsure how he felt about this information. A part of him had been hoping an Imperious Curse would explain Callahan's behavior, that it might put this case quietly to rest.

Lakey and Anne stepped out into the hallway. Lakey directed his wand at the cell door and it swung on its hinges. A low _click_ confirmed that the door was sealed.

"Well Anne, thank you for your help." Lakey was saying to the woman in black. "Contact me if you have any problems. I look forward to a full report."

"Always happy to help, Director" Anne replied. She turned to him. "And goodbye Harry."

She paused at his troubled expression and seemed to consider him for a moment. "Please don't hesitate to call on me Harry should you need me. I'll always make time for your cases…" She reached down and fleetingly squeezed his hand. In the next moment, nodded to Lakey and proceeded down the hallway.

Once she was a few yards away, Harry turned to Lakey. "Well, what is it?"

"There's no need to be cool, Harry," Lakey said, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. He directed Harry slowly down the corridor after Anne. "I'd like you to speak to Hermione. I think this case is getting to her head; she's not usually so emotional. To an outside observer she probably seems perfectly in control, but you and I know her better than that."

Lakey stopped. "I'm giving her the rest of the day off. Why don't you speak with her? I've known you nearly as long as I've known Hermione. You've had your own struggles with controlling your emotions in situations like this. From what I've heard, Hermione was usually the person who calmed you down. Can you do the same for her?"

Harry nodded, staring at the ground. He still felt panicky, but Lakey's confidence was bringing Harry back to himself.

"Thank you," Lakey said. He paused. "This case is very important. Not just to Hermione, but to Magical Law Enforcement. We pushed through many reforms in the years after Voldemort's fall. Now there's a growing backlash. People think we took things too far. You and I both know there's still a lot of prejudice against Muggles and Muggle-borns in this country. This case will serve as an example that the Ministry of Magic is, and forever will be, a stalwart defender of the rights of the most vulnerable among us. We can't get complacent."

Finally, Harry voiced the fear that had been forming in his chest all afternoon. "John…do you worry that you're putting a target on Hermione's back with this case? She's a phenomenally capable lawyer, we both know that. But to put her out in the open on this case? When she's a Muggle-born? When the public mood could easily turn in Callahan's favor…?"

Lakey stared at Harry. "I'm surprised to hear _you_ worry about the politics of a case, Harry. You've supported her more controversial cases in the past…"

"They were not like this. This is an Auror, a respected Auror. Like it or not, Callahan has voiced opinions that a lot of wizards have been thinking. Besides, the causes Hermione has championed—Muggle cooperation, intergovernmental consultations, scholarships for Muggle-wizard exchanges, not to mention house-elf liberation—they haven't always been well-received…"

Harry wasn't sure why he was talking like this. He had always supported Hermione's work, even if he didn't get directly involved himself.

"Harry," Lake said sternly, "this sort of change isn't easy. But that doesn't mean we should stop pushing for it, does it? I'll be damned if I sideline any counselor in my Department out of fear for the _politics_ of the situation. That includes Hermione. She's a grown woman, Harry. She's more than capable of defending herself."

But then Lakey looked to the side. "However...Hermione was not my first choice for this case. I was going to take lead myself. She insisted though. This is the sort of case she's been waiting for—it's unfortunate that it deals so directly with your department."

"I'm not worried about my department," said Harry viciously. "I'm worried about Hermione. I won't see her publicly pilloried in the media. She's given too much to have it spat back in her face…"

Lakey grinned. "Harry, you shouldn't worry about Hermione's popularity. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been unpopular for a very _long time._ As Hermione rises in the department, she'll undoubtedly face some criticism. Let that be her choice. Besides," Lakey said, turning towards the exit, "Minister Shacklebolt is firmly behind us on this case. With your support as well, Hermione might not face much of a backlash."

Harry nodded grimly, quieted for now.

"So take her to lunch. Help her relax. Your department can manage without you for a day?"

Harry nodded. "I thought we'd be out much later than this. I left instructions with my staff. They aren't expecting me to return today."

"Great," Lakey said, back to his jovial self as he and Harry approached the desk with the two young counselors. "Thank you, Harry. A little… _perspective_ is all Hermione needs right now."

  


Harry found Hermione standing outside. The holding cell complex itself was located on the outskirts of Stonehouse. The air was crisp with the onset of autumn and a few trees were beginning to change color in the surrounding hillsides. The grass remained a deep, vibrant green, however.

Harry walked towards her. She was sitting on a wooden bench, staring off into the distance.

"Hey," Harry called as he approached.

Hermione turned. She put on a tight smile. "Hey."

Harry sat down next to her, releasing a long sigh.

There was silence.

"Sorry for storming out just then," Hermione apologized. "I figured there was no point talking to him in that moment."

"You were fine."

Another closed-lip smile and Hermione leaned her head against Harry's shoulder briefly. "Where's John?"

"He disapparated five minutes ago. He said you have the rest of the day off...he also suggested we get some lunch."

"Oh, did he?" Hermione smiled slightly. "A day off? Haven't gotten one of those in a while…"

Harry proceeded cautiously. "Why don't we walk back towards the town? We'll grab some lunch and take it easy the rest of the day."

She looked at him suspiciously. Harry got the feeling she knew exactly what he was doing. It didn't help that Harry was treating her like a wild colt about to throw its rider.

Then she smiled at him. "You don't need to worry about me, Harry. I'm fine. I just needed some fresh air earlier."

"Okay," Harry said slowly. "But we still need lunch."

"All right," she consented. "If I went home now I'd probably just be doing paperwork and eating mint chocolate chip ice-cream out of a tub."

Harry laughed. He stood up and offered a hand to Hermione.

Harry and Hermione easily found the wide street that led into the center of town. Hermione had her hand tucked into the crook of Harry's arm as they proceeded slowly down the cobblestone road. Stonehouse was a working-class town with recently gentrified townhouses lining both sides of the street, little flowerboxes under each window. As the entered the more commercial area, they passed Muggle establishments selling clothes, groceries, electronics, and liquor. They finally found a bar that was open this early in the afternoon and stepped inside. There were only three other customers—a teenage couple and an alcoholic Muggle seated at the bar.

"Two?" a plump woman asked Harry and Hermione as they entered.

"Yes, thank you," said Harry.

"Booth or bar?" she asked, grabbing two menus.

Harry was about to say "booth," when Hermione interrupted.

"Bar, please."

Harry smiled slightly as the waitress led the way towards the bar, seating them far away from the drunk at the other end. The woman went to the other side of the counter.

"We have some specials today. Our soup is pumpkin spice and we have a lamb roast with a side of potatoes and greens. Anything from the bar?"

"Scotch and soda." Hermione said, grabbing a coaster from the stack by her elbow.

The waitress turned to Harry.

"Um—gin and tonic, please."

The waitress left.

"God, Hermione," said Harry teasingly. "Drinks this early? It's only 11:30."

Hermione shrugged. "That special sounded good, didn't it?"

Harry and Hermione spent the rest of their lunch in companionable conversation, delicately skirting any topic vaguely related to the Callahan case. They talked about the children at Hogwarts, Hugo and Lily, and Ginny and Ron. Harry barely noticed the minutes tick by, though his slow inebriation was helping with that. After Harry finished his gin and tonic, he gulped down two beers and a highball. Hermione followed with a whiskey sour and a Rob Roy.

Two hours later, Harry wasn't feeling particularly drunk—the lamb roast he ordered had helped—but Hermione was undeniably tipsy. She was laughing at the most inane things and the waitress was starting to look annoyed. The restaurant's regular clientele was coming in.

Harry paid the bill and took Hermione by the arm, marching her back towards the entrance. She giggled as Harry subtly lifted her over the threshold and they began walking down the street.

More cars were on the road now, so Harry steered her towards the sidewalk. She staring fixedly at a bicycle stand.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked.

"Fine," she said, snapping out of it and wrapping her arm around Harry's waist to steady herself. "We drank too much, didn't we?"

Harry laughed. "I don't know what you're talking about. I feel fine. You on the other hand, miss…"

Hermione giggled again, something she rarely did. She stumbled over her own feet and slipped sideways. Harry swung her back towards him, encircling her with his other arm. He pressed her against his chest, righting her.

_"Oops! Sorry,"_ she whispered.

"You need to be careful," he warned her, though he was unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Yessir," she said with an exaggerated slur. "But you're drunk too. Your face is red!"

Indeed, Harry could feel the heat radiating from his face. The cool breeze was doing nothing to relieve that. He looked down at Hermione, her face close to his. She was definitely flushed, and her eyes were startlingly bright. Still the same brown eyes, but somehow...interestingly deeper.

Harry shook his head. "I guess we should perform an Aeration Spell, shouldn't we?"

_"Unf,"_ Hermione grumbled, pushing her face into Harry's sweater.

Harry laughed again. "Yeah…that's probably for the best."

He pulled her into a side alley between two shops. Hermione giggled as Harry dragged her with him and pushed her against the wall.

As Harry pulled out his wand, Hermione groaned. "God, Harry. In this instance you literally are a _buzz_ kill."

"Shut up," Harry said, fumbling. "I can't carry you down the street, can I?"

"Sure you can, you bastard…" Hermione mumbled.

"Look," Harry said calmly, straightening her cloak on her shoulders. "I won't make it strong, okay? Just enough so you can walk again."

"Fine," Hermione sighed, straightening up.

Harry pointed his wand at Hermione. She squeezed her eyes closed as a gush of air hit her in the chest. Harry had received an Aeration Spell several times in his life. It sort of felt like ice water was being poured on your brain, running down until it reached your toes. It diluted the alcohol in the bloodstream.

Hermione shivered against him and then opened her eyes.

"Better?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, her eyes already more lucid. "Depends on your definition, but sure."

She looked at the odd placement of their bodies and stepped away. Harry replaced his wand and together they passed back into the street. Hermione was much steadier as they continued to walk down the main thoroughfare in Stonehouse.

"What time is it?" Hermione asked.

"Two."

"Hmmm," Hermione considered. "What are we supposed to do now…with the rest of my day off?"

"I don't know. I doubt there's much to do around here," Harry said as he looked down the street.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, but she did not offer any suggestions.

They walked several more steps before Harry stopped. "Hermione, I've got an idea."

She looked up at him, curious.

"We're actually pretty close to the Welsh border and that means the Forest of Dean," Harry explained. "Want to head over there for old time's sake?"

"The Forest of Dean?" Hermione asked, not understanding. "You mean the place…wasn't it one of our camping grounds in our seventh year?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "It's the place where we found the Sword of Gryffindor, where Ron found us again."

"Oh," Hermione said, not particularly enthusiastic. She scratched the side of her face. "What's there that we need to see?"

"I don't know. The place is just pretty. What else is there to do?"

"I guess that's true," Hermione said slowly. "The weather is getting warmer in any case."

"Okay," Harry said, excited for some reason. "Just give me a second to remember what it looks like." Harry closed his eyes and felt Hermione come to his side.

"Okay. Ready," he said.

Hermione took his hand.

 

They landed in a small clearing. The ground was littered with leaves and the sun was shining brightly through the canopy of trees, lending the clearing an ethereal golden glow.

"Ooh," Hermione said, releasing his hand. "The Forest of Dean. I wasn't really picturing it before. Yes, I came here with my parents once…" Hermione looked to her right. "Oh, and we set up camp just here?" she asked, turning to Harry.

"Yeah, I think so."

He looked off to the left as Hermione walked to the spot where their tent had stood long ago. Harry kicked a few leaves under his feet. He came to a tree he thought he remembered sitting against once, in much darker days. The trees had been bare then, the ground hard with ice. He didn't even have a wand. Hermione's had been stuffed in his pocket.

Harry put his hand against the trunk. He looked at the trees, which led into a shallow was there that he had first seen the silver doe, Snape's patronus, which had led him to the Sword.

Harry felt himself being pulled forward by some phantom shadow of a memory; he felt as though he were seventeen again, desperate and confused—hoping for something, anything that could change the dire circumstances in which he found himself…

Harry took a few steps forward. "Hermione?" he called, his voice cracking.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione said, concern in her voice. She was walking swiftly towards him. She grabbed his arm. "What's wrong?"

Her touch seemed to release Harry from whatever compulsion he was under. He turned to look at her face. "Oh—nothing," he said slowly. "Do you want to see the place where Ron and I found the Sword?"

"Sure!" Hermione said with obvious excitement. "You two never actually told me where you found it."

Harry led her down into the trees. He was working off muscle memory to find the exact location. After a few wrong turns, he caught sight of the brilliant surface of a pool ahead of them.

"Oh, wow," Hermione sighed, spotting the pond herself. When she reached the clearing, she spun around in a small circle. "How beautiful."

The clearing was full of light.

The sun had turned the pool's surface to molten gold and some species of tree had turned completely yellow, amplifying the effect. The leaves crunched under Harry's feet as he moved forward, watching Hermione.

He followed her to the edge of the pool and they both looked down into its depths. Harry could see some brownish-green kelp swaying at the bottom and a few minnows darting here and there between its shoots. The pool's water was perfectly clear, just as Harry remembered it. He looked up at the trees, trying to remember how this place had looked nineteen years ago. At the time, he had been sure someone was watching him just out of his sight as he contemplated his retrieval of the Sword. Now, he felt only tranquil as he stood next to Hermione.

"So, it was just down there?" Hermione asked, looking into the depths.

"Yeah, at the bottom. Snape's patronus led me here and then it disappeared. I saw the sword through the ice and tried to summon it, but that didn't work."

"So what did you do?"

"Well, it was strange…something told me I would have to swim to the bottom to get it. So I took off my clothes and went in—"

"Oh, Harry! You didn't!" she cried.

He laughed. "It was pretty horrible. I could hardly breathe, it was so cold," he said, adding some heroic flourishes. "I was about to reach it when the locket started choking me; it seemed to sense that I was about to get the thing that would destroy it."

"And then?"

"Well, Ron came and pulled me out. He had grabbed the Sword too."

Hermione smiled. "What did Ron say then?"

"Something along the lines of I was insane. I was just shocked and grateful to see him there. Plus, we had the Sword," Harry replied.

Harry turned away from the pond. He looked to his right, and again he felt the same pull dragging him forward. This time, it was towards the rock where Harry had opened Tom Riddle's locket and Ron had smashed it with the Sword of Gryffindor.

"It was over here," Harry said, as he approached the large slab of stone sticking out of the leaf-strewn ground. "This is where Ron stabbed the locket…"

Reaching the rock, Harry knelt down. He might have been imagining it, but he thought he saw a thin white line on the rock's surface, perhaps the sort of line made by a slashing sword… He traced the groove with his fingers.

Hermione was beside him. "So Ron stabbed it with the Sword?"

"It wasn't that simple," Harry replied quickly. "Something odd happened before."

Harry sat down on the rock and Hermione lowered herself next to him. "Well, what happened?"

Harry's mind had not thought through the entire episode with the locket. The details were flooding back to him now…

His face grew warmer. He glanced quickly at Hermione. The sunlight struck her beautifully at this angle, setting her hair aglow. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed, her eyes genuinely curious. Harry felt his hesitation dissipating.

"Um, well…the locket sort of tried to tempt Ron."

_"Tempt?_ How do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"It tried to get Ron _not_ to destroy it. Ron was the one holding the Sword, after all, ready to smash it. Whatever was inside the locket started messing with Ron's head...saying things."

"What sort of things? Could you hear?"

"Yeah, I could. It said really awful things—things like his parents didn't want him or love him, that he was worthless. Then," Harry's mouth seemed to be moving faster than his brain, "it showed him you and me."

"You and me?" Hermione repeated. "Why?"

Harry was uncomfortable now, his mouth going dry. "I don't know," he said. "These two smoky versions of us came out of the locket. I think we were goading him, saying that…that you and I were a couple. At some point, we started kissing. That really pissed off Ron and he stabbed the thing. That was it."

Hermione was quiet for a long moment. Harry felt strangely warm, his stomach tight.

"Why didn't either of you tell me about this?" she finally asked.

Harry didn't know the answer to that question; he was regretting even mentioning the demonic vision that emerged from Riddle's locket.

"I don't know," Harry said again. "It didn't seem important when we got back to the camp. Ron was back and the horcrux was destroyed, what the locket had shown Ron didn't seem important in comparison."

"Yeah, but what it showed him…" Hermione said, confused. "Does that…does that mean he thought something was going on between us?"

Harry shifted slightly. "I'm not sure. Maybe."

Hermione laughed. "But why would he think that? Had we ever done _anything_ that would cause him to think you and I were romantically…inclined?"

Harry sighed, wishing they could drop the topic. "It was probably an irrational fear…"

Hermione was silent, considering this. "Maybe. I mean…we know Ron has been insecure about you in the past, what with your success at Quidditch and your inheritance... Then, there was your fight after the Goblet of Fire chose you."

Harry nodded.

"But still, when it comes to you and me, there was no reason for him to think that. No one saw us as more than just friends…"

"I don't know if that's necessarily true," Harry couldn't help replying.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there were definitely times when people thought we were a couple, you know? Like when Rita Skeeter's article came out."

"Oh, right," Hermione said, remembering. She was quiet for another moment. Then, she smiled slightly. "You know, Cho Chang actually came up to me one day and said she didn't like how I was 'monopolizing' your time."

Harry smiled faintly. He would have liked to have seen that conversation. But Hermione's words reminded him of another example.

"I guess that went both ways, because Krum confronted me once about you. I had to assure him that we were _just_ friends," Harry laughed. "He was very relieved."

"Really?" Hermione looked almost giddy. She was reverting to her fourteen-year-old self. "He never told me that. That's hilarious."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"But, that was just people we were dating…they were bound to jump to conclusions. Though, I wonder why Viktor wouldn't ask Ron the same question?"

"Maybe because you two were fighting so much?"

Hermione smiled. "Well, I guess that hasn't changed."

"But actually, it was more than just them," Harry started, remembering another instance, "Dumbledore asked me if we were dating in our sixth year. That kind of came out of nowhere."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's so odd," Hermione mused softly.

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, looking out at the water. Harry tried to ignore the heat radiating from his face. This conversation seemed to have taken an awkward turn, as so rarely happened in his conversations with Hermione. He cast about for something different to discuss, but then Hermione spoke again.

"I suppose…," she said, not looking at him, "combined with his insecurities about you and the rumors about us, that could have led Ron to see us in the locket, right?"

Harry nodded. "It's a fair guess."

"Ron has never mentioned this," she said quietly.

Harry could feel the warmth radiating off Hermione now too, her knee touching his. After a moment, she spoke.

"So we snogged _right here,_ Harry?" Her voice was low, almost seductive?

Harry's neck spun around. Hermione was smiling mischievously.

Harry laughed. "Uh, yes. I guess we did. Did I tell you we were both naked?"

"Oh _God!"_ Hermione cried, burying her face in her hands.

Harry laughed again, nudging her with his shoulder. When Hermione lifted her face again, it was beet red.

"C'mon, Hermione," Harry teased. "It wasn't real, was it? Don't be such a girl about it."

"I know, I know," Hermione sighed. She tucked her arm through Harry's, her fingers brushing his.

She gave him an appraising look. "You know, I don't think we've ever kissed," she said matter-of-factly.

Harry stared back at her. Then, his eyes flew to her lips. "What?"

"Yeah, I don't think we have, not even on New Year's or anything. No wonder I find this so hard to picture…"

Harry gave her a half-smile. "What? Us going at it naked?"

Hermione giggled. "Yeah. That."

Harry considered her for a moment, or at least stared at her lips for a few more seconds. He wasn't entirely sure why he spoke.

"We could try it now," he said.

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"Well, we never have. What better place than the site of our debauchery?" Harry said slyly, gesturing to the stone beneath them.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, as though trying to determine whether he was serious. Then, her face broke into a wide grin and she laughed.

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess we have to do it!" Hermione said sarcastically.

Harry grinned, looking away. "No, we don't have to if you don't want to."

"C'mon, Harry. What are we? Twelve?" she smiled, tugging on his arm. "We're adults. We can handle one kiss between friends."

"Fine, then," Harry said after a moment. "If you're sure."

"Yeah, yeah. Just do it," Hermione said, giggling again.

They turned slightly to face one another. Hermione's hand moved to his wrist and Harry placed his free hand at her elbow.

Harry looked at her face. "Hermione," he warned, "don't laugh."

"I won't!" she cried.

Harry couldn't seem to remove the smile from his face.

"Ah, you're the one who's going to laugh," Hermione accused.

"Shut up. Just relax your face."

Hermione rolled her eyes before she closed them.

The forest grew quiet, the slow rippling of the pool's surface the only sound. Harry's eyes were drawn to her lips for the third time. They were a deep rose color, bare of any lipstick. To Harry, they were fascinating—innocent and provocative at the same time. They seemed to exert a magnetic pull, drawing him towards her...

Releasing a shaky breath, he closed his eyes. And slowly, very slowly, he lowered his lips to hers. They were deliciously soft, far beyond what he could have imagined. He held himself there for a few seconds, memorizing the feel of it. At first, Hermione's lips did not move under his, but as Harry pulled back, her mouth opened slightly.

They stared at each other for a ephemeral moment, neither close to laughing.

Her brown eyes were shining, reflecting the gold of the clearing. Yet, her eyes had that same immeasurable depth Harry found so appealing. He watched those eyes look into his emerald ones, and then slowly...her eyes traveled to his lips.

Harry seized her by the waist, unable to hold back any longer. He brought his mouth down to hers, and this time she relented instantly. Her mouth opened, pliant against his lips. Harry felt feverish and cold at the same time as Hermione slipped her tongue inside his mouth. His own tongue delved past her lips, intensifying the kiss. He placed his free hand under her jaw. Hermione seemed to fall into the kiss, pressing herself against Harry as he directed her movements. Her fingers found their way into his hair.

Then, a quiet moan escaped Hermione's lips. It was almost inaudible but the sound was so powerfully seductive that Harry felt himself harden. Harry grunted, running a hand down her back and pushing them closer together. He was determined to completely devour her, to be consumed by the feel and taste of her. In the back of his mind, he knew things were going too far. He wasn't sure how long the kiss had lasted, but he knew if they didn't break apart now…

Thankfully, Hermione found the strength to pull away. She pushed against his chest and the two separated, breathless.

"Harry! I'm so sorry!"

"Hermione, I—"

She jumped to her feet. "Right. Um. Well…right," she stammered. Harry stood quickly as well.

"That was…" Harry began.

"Right, that was…we just got carried away. I'm so sorry…should we—?" she said, looking to him.

"Right," Harry nodded, still trying to catch his breath. With the heat of the kiss rapidly dissipating, Harry cast about for something to correct the situation. He glanced at Hermione. He suddenly felt a wave of terror that they had crossed some previously unknown boundary, that things could not be the same now…

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine," Hermione said, her eyes wide. "That was…we shouldn't have done that."

"I am so sorry," Harry started again.

Hermione paused, staring off at their surroundings. Finally, she shook her head and walked towards him. "No, I am. It's been a very stressful day for both of us—I think we just got carried away. We don't need to worry about it," she said with forced cheeriness. She laughed. "Maybe there's some weird 'erotic aura' left over there that took control of us," she said, pointing to the rock.

Harry laughed uncomfortably. "Right."

"Harry, really," Hermione said, placing a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about it."

Harry nodded, but he couldn't stop his eyes from landing squarely on her reddened lips.

"Right," he said again.

Hermione smiled, tilting her head to one side. She looked satisfied, or at least determined to appear satisfied.

"Um, so should we head back? It's probably close to five now, right?" Hermione asked, surreptitiously straightening her clothes.

Harry looked down at his watch. It was just past five. "Sure, I think I'll check in with the office before I head home."

"Right," Hermione said quicly. "I need to stop by Diagon Alley. We're running out of parchment and such…. Besides, I think the shopkeeper at Flourish & Blotts reserved a copy of Gretchen Ohlen's autobiography for me. It's supposed to be amazing."

"Oh," Harry said, vaguely remembering a Swedish witch and scholar Hermione had mentioned before. "That sounds great."

"Yes," Hermione said looking down. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Harry said. He paused, unsure whether to give her the customary kiss goodbye. Hermione seemed to expect it, however, so Harry leaned down and placed a quick peck on her cheek. "Well, goodbye."

"Bye, Harry," Hermione said, and with that she disapparated.

Harry looked around the quiet clearing, the golden light quickly fading.

"Fuck."

 

Harry arrived home at nine o'clock. His staff had taken care of all of his instructions when he arrived at the Auror Department at five. So Harry sat in his office looking over the interdepartmental quarterly review and several other files. In actuality, he mostly thought about Hermione.

He thought of her lips, how soft and unquestioning they had been under his. The feeling of her pressed against him, the curve of her body under his hands. The golden light reflected in her eyes. The heavy lashes that fell as she looked at his lips. Harry followed these thoughts without really processing them, not wanting to analyze what they meant…

After he had relived the scene in the forest upwards of fifty times, he started worrying about his relationship with Hermione.

In all the years he had known her, they had never been anything but fantastic friends. It had always been clear to Harry that Ron was in love with Hermione. He never thought much about whether she loved him back. He assumed their marriage was proof enough of that. In that reality, there had never been room for a Harry and Hermione who were more than friends. Yet, Harry had to reject that thought as well. He and Hermione had always been _more_ than friends—to say they were simply friends cheapened their relationship.

Yes, Hermione was his friend. But Hermione was also a full list of separate identifiers. She was his reference library, his source of advice and perspective, his co-worker, his sister-in-law, his family, his _best_ friend, and his savior on numerous occasions. Perhaps no one else, to maddening effect, seemed to know what Harry was thinking at a given moment than Hermione. They thought alike, of that Harry was certain. He didn't need any more evidence than the half-year they had spent in a tent together. It had always been him and Hermione that chased down any clue that might have led to a new horcrux. Ron had mostly sat in the corner and mumbled about food. Their time in the tent reflected a pattern throughout their Hogwarts days—Hermione had always been the other half of his brain, usually the half that worked a bit faster.

Considering this, his decision to kiss Hermione was wholly ill advised. He had no idea how Hermione would react to the events in the forest. Sure, she seemed willing to cast it aside as stress but Harry had a feeling women did not forget these things easily. _He_ certainly couldn't forget it. Again, the same cold wave of panic swallowed him. His ruminations on her lips aside, he couldn't be without Hermione as his friend. He simply couldn't. He didn't know anything else. There simply wasn't another way to live, was there?

 

As Harry climbed the stairs to his and Ginny's bedroom, he saw a light on at the end of the corridor. It was Lily's room. Harry walked towards the strip of light peeking underneath her door and then softly turned the doorknob.

Lily instantly squealed. "DADDY!"

She launched herself at Harry and he swung her up into his arms. She was getting heavier and it was not as easy as it once was. "Lily!" Harry laughed, letting his attaché slip from his hand and fall onto the ground. "There's my girl."

"Mum said you weren't going to come home tonight!"

"Well, I came back a bit early, sweetie," Harry smiled down at her. "But someone is supposed to be in bed already."

"I was! I was!" Lily cried.

"Yeah? Then what's all this?" Harry questioned, walking towards the dollhouse Lily had obviously been occupied with.

"I was just playing for a bit," Lily protested. "I was just about to go to bed!"

Harry squatted down, folding his legs under him so he could hold Lily in his lap. She looked at her father curiously as he essentially cradled her like a baby, but she didn't ask any questions. She reached over and grabbed two dolls at random.

They were the magical dolls Harry had bought for her last birthday. They were special in that they could change on command: male, female, hair, skin, eye color, clothes…

"Yeah, and what were you playing?"

"Just house. I made a mummy and a you, and then an Aunt Hermione and then an Uncle Ron." Lily answered, stroking the hair of the doll in her hand. It had shiny brown hair with flecks of gold. The other hand held a male doll with a shock of red hair.

Harry looked down at the doll versions of Ron and Hermione. Then he kissed Lily's own red head and pulled the dolls out of her hand.

"That's nice, sweetie," Harry said. "But it really is time for bed. It's a school night. Gimme kiss."

"Fine," she said. Lily pecked Harry softly on the cheek.

Harry scooped her up again and laid her down on her bed. He tucked in the corners and moved to kiss her goodnight.

"Goodnight, Lily bear."

Lily giggled. "Goodnight, papa bear!"

Harry smiled and kissed her on the forehead. He turned to move out of the room.

Ginny was there, leaning against the doorjamb.

Harry's smile faltered only slightly as he moved towards her. He kissed her on the cheek and the two moved out into the hall, closing the door behind them.

"You're back early," Ginny said, looping her arm around Harry's waist. "Thought I wouldn't see you until morning?"

"It didn't take as long as expected," Harry said simply.

"And how is Hermione?"

Could Ginny feel the tension in his muscles? "She's fine," Harry said.

Ginny nodded, seemingly satisfied.

 

While Ginny read in their bedroom, Harry headed down to the kitchen. He removed some of Molly Weasley's casserole and zapped it with a quick heating spell. He ate at the kitchen counter, too jittery to sit down.

His mind was back to its usual preoccupation of Hermione's lips. But now that memory was tinged with feelings of guilt. He remembered the versions of Ron and Hermione that Lily had held in her hands—cold and plastic, but matching perfectly. Ron…Ginny. Somewhere in his mind, Harry knew he should have thought about them sooner. But considering either of them would mean that his kiss with Hermione somehow involved them. He wasn't ready to think about that yet.

Harry spent the rest of the evening in the study, unsuccessfully reading the same files he failed to read in his office. At eleven, he climbed back up the stairs to his and Ginny's room. She was in the bathroom and Harry quickly undressed to his boxers and undershirt. He slipped in between the sheets of his bed, ready to appear fast asleep when Ginny emerged.

As Harry listened to the taps running in the next room, he tried to clear his thoughts. He pushed Hermione as far away from his mind as possible. A few minutes later, he heard Ginny close the bathroom door. Harry kept his eyes shut. He could hear her walking around the room, the faint smell of lilac following after her.

Finally, the lights went out and Ginny sat down on the other end of their massive bed. He could hear her placing something on the nightstand, and then she slipped between the sheets. Harry was relieved that there would be no more talking tonight; he needed to get his thoughts in order. However, he soon heard Ginny moving towards him. Her arm draped itself across his chest.

"When are you going into work tomorrow?" Ginny asked, her voice low.

"Usual time."

"Oh, all right," she said. She gently tugged on Harry's shoulder, pulling him onto his side to face her. "I missed you today, darling."

"Oh," Harry said, not trusting his voice. His face felt immeasurably warm again.

"Yes." She slid a hand under the sheets and grasped Harry.

Harry started and Ginny laughed, using his surprise to take his lips.

Harry felt Ginny's mouth press against his, roving and exploring. Out of habit, he opened his mouth and her tongue immediately slipped in side. Harry tried not to draw comparisons, but immediately they were there. Ginny's lips felt sticky with gloss, her mouth flavored with toothpaste. Rather than the golden light of the forest, it was the moon that provided a grayish, silver glow.

Her hand was gently stroking Harry under the sheets. She moaned against his lips and moved her hands to the hem of his shirt. She quickly tugged it off. Then, she removed her own shift.

"Ginny, I—" Harry said, unsure if he could continue.

Her fingers slid along his muscled torso and then fell below the waistband of his boxers.

"Ginny-" Harry said again.

_"Shhh,"_ Ginny chided. Her lips were back on his.

After a moment, Harry could not protest anymore.

Ginny's ministrations were beginning to clear his head, which was exactly what he wanted. He pushed her onto her back and kissed her neck. He paid attention to her breasts, taking one in between his lips and gently running his tongue along the peak. His fingers molded the nipple of her other breast into a tight point. Harry moved lower, tracing kisses down to her navel and stopping just above the delicate space between her legs.

"Just do it, darling," Ginny moaned softly, her body arching towards his.

Harry slipped off his boxers, positioned himself between her legs, and entered her. Eight inches slid inside, thrusting in and out. Ginny was squirming beneath him.

_"Yes,"_ she sighed, as Harry moved within her. He moved diligently, trying to focus on her face and the feeling of being inside of her. Yet, his thoughts still seemed irrevocably scattered—he simply couldn't concentrate on Ginny's wanton form beneath him. He pounded into her harder, watching as the vibrations of the impact shook her. He took her much more roughly than he normally did, as though he could beat out his conflicting thoughts with every thrust.

Ginny was approaching climax, moving in time with him. Harry could feel her walls tightening around him. She began to shake as her orgasm finally overwhelmed her.

_"Fuck! Harry!"_ she cried.

Harry's eyes immediately snapped to her face. He felt his own release.

In that moment, however, Hermione swam to the front of his mind.

Without meaning to, Harry imagined that it was _Hermione_ who had said his name in ecstasy. His name with those soft lips, reddened by his kisses.


	6. Rapprochement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling
> 
> A/N: Happy New Year readers! A special chapter update for you on New Year's Day. A short response to the most recent reviews: Most of them have been overwhelmingly positive, and I thank you for that. I really love receiving feedback. I do apologize for not warning you about the H/G scene at the end of the last chapter. It sounds like most everyone was able to handle it with maturity. And that's really what I was hoping for. This is how I see the story progressing, and I can't shy away from Harry's real relations with Ginny. It simply wouldn't be realistic. But never fear, this is a H/Hr story, I'm just taking my time in progressing all that.
> 
> PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!

Harry awoke at his usual time. He felt as though he had been punched in the gut. For a moment, he could not place the reason for his dismal state.

Then, yesterday came flooding back.

He looked to his right. Ginny was lying in her usual spot, the blankets huddled on her end of the bed. Harry gingerly extricated himself from the sheets around his ankles, so as not to wake her. Harry dressed in the dawn light filtering through the bedroom's enormous bay window.

As though placing a gramophone's needle back on a record that had been momentarily paused, Harry's brain returned to its usual fixation of Hermione. The events in the forest, his and Hermione's awkward goodbye, his night with Ginny—all of it swirled in his mind in an unceasing stream of anxiety. Harry shook his head sharply as he brushed his teeth. For someone like Harry, distraction simply could not be his new _modus operandi._

As Harry passed out of the room, he glanced at Ginny. She was fast asleep, her slim frame shrouded in bed sheets. The sunlight was white upon her exposed skin. He turned away, disgusted with himself.

  


"Chief?"

Harry glanced up at Gwen. "Yes?" he asked, agitated.

"Director Lakey is here to see you."

"Oh." It was just past ten o'clock. Lakey did not have an appointment. "Send him in."

Gwen stepped to the side and Lakey strode in, a wide smile on his broad face.

"Mornin' Harry," Lakey greeted, taking Harry's hand. "I was hoping I'd catch you before lunch. I wanted to give you an update on the Callahan situation."

"Sure," said Harry, gesturing for Lakey to sit. He pushed some files off his desk and looked at Lakey expectantly.

"I got the report from Anne around six this morning," Lakey said. "She found no evidence of an Imperious Curse. On top of that, no evidence of an enchantment, a mind-altered state, or even mental distress. Of course, she could only look back a few hours before the attack, so we'll have to take her evidence for what it is. There's always the chance that his actions were part of some long-standing plot, but that's highly unlikely."

Harry nodded. It was a frequent point of contention among his Aurors that magical evaluations should be allowed to go back several months before a crime to determine whether multiple actors were involved or if the individual had committed offenses in the past. Lakey and his legal team had successfully appealed to the Wizengamot that such a proposal was a gross invasion of privacy.

"Right," Harry said. "Well, I guess that un-complicates things?"

"Well, it certainly seems to suggest that Callahan is and has been an anti-Muggle bigot for quite some time, a bigot who was apparently very good at hiding it until now. We'll have to develop that in the deposition, of course."

Harry released a sigh despite himself. "Needless to say, a lot of my Aurors believe he was under the Imperious. When will the results of Anne's evaluation be made public?"

Lakey looked sympathetically at Harry. Magical evaluations were extremely rare in Britain these days, usually saved for the most heinous offenders. The subjection of Callahan to the treatment would not be well received, Harry was sure.

"Don't worry," said Lakey. "We'll add the evaluation as an amendment to the arraignment on Saturday. The press never looks into that sort of documentation. They'll read the Ministry statement and be done with it. Your Aurors probably won't hear about it until the trial begins. At that point, we'll call in every favor we have at the Prophet to downplay the magical evaluation and emphasize the _nastiness_ that is Theo Callahan," Lakey finished smugly.

Harry gave Lakey a level look, not used to the Director using such forthright language when it came to press manipulation. Yet, Lakey was one of the best there ever was. His ability to control the public discourse, especially after the fall of Voldemort, was unparalleled. He was the reason half of the Muggle/Muggle-born protection laws were on the books.

Harry glanced out the window of his office into the vast pool of Auror cubicles. He saw several pairs of eyes flick away as he peered through the glass. The atmosphere was still tense in his department, Callahan's absence a gaping hole. All Harry wanted was a few weeks of quiet so that everyone could forget about Callahan…and the woman who would be prosecuting him.

Harry looked down at his hands and asked the question that had been on his mind since Lakey walked in. "How's Hermione?"

"Hermione?" Lakey repeated, chuckling slightly. "She's fine. She got into the office even earlier than me today. Must have been six in the morning. She'd already marked up Anne's report for my review by the time I arrived. She's been exceedingly productive... And that's saying something since this is Hermione we're talking about."

Harry smiled automatically, but his stomach was sinking. Somehow, he felt strangely disappointed that Hermione was _productive?_ Harry didn't want to think it, but perhaps Hermione couldn't be bothered by what had happened yesterday? It had meant so little to her?... Harry looked down at his own desk. The disorganized files strewn across the surface provided the damning evidence of his own lack of productivity.

"It's the case," Lakey was saying. "I've finally given her something to run with and she's just taken off. I was worried Callahan was getting to her, but whatever you said to her yesterday must have given her some perspective."

Harry glanced at Lakey. "Right, well I'm sure she'll do great. She always does."

There was silence for a few seconds. Lakey seemed to take it as his cue to leave. "Well, I'll be going Harry," he said, gathering his things.

Lakey looked out the office window as he stood, noticing the same wave of eyes flashing away. He smiled. "Harry, if we need to consult about this case in the future, feel free to come over to my office. You'll always get a warm welcome there," Lakey smirked.

Harry laughed. "All right, take care John."

Lakey strode out of Harry's office and Gwen immediately stepped inside. "Chief, your wife owled. She wanted to remind you that you're hosting the Weasleys tonight and that you should pick up some beer…and some," she flipped through her notes, "some chicken. She also said she'll be at the office until six so you can start cooking without her if need be."

"Thanks, Gwen," Harry said, feeling anxious all over again as his assistant closed the door.

He had completely forgotten about their Wednesday dinner. He was supposed to be down at the Auror training facility today but had cancelled to finish going through his files. Now he had to visit Ron at _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes,_ pick up food, and then prepare to see Hermione again. In comparison to the latter, all his other tasks seemed manageable. 

  


Harry agitatedly walked through the narrow aisles of Dwendell's Market Hall, a small grocery in the heart of Diagon Alley. Nestled in the crook of his arm was a six-pack of Redstone's Enchanted Ale as he walked towards the butchery at the back of the store. A few people were staring at him, as often happened to Harry in public places. But, if Harry had been in a state of mind to think about it, he would have realized he was quite a sight: the famous Harry Potter carrying a six-pack of beer and looking about ready to curse the store into dragon meat.

Harry got in line behind two gossiping ladies and stared at the bewitched knives hacking and filleted large slabs of meat. Yet, Harry barely took in his surroundings. He was going to see Ron in a few minutes and Harry was determined to figure out what was wrong with himself before that time. He absolutely could not see Ron in this state. Harry would go through the whole damn thing logically if it killed him. Thankfully, the line was slow and he was able to make some initial progress.

First, he had kissed Hermione. The inevitable question was, why?

_I don't know._

_Expand on that, Harry._

_Well, like she said, we never had. I was merely curious, wasn't I?_

_Why were you curious?_

_Because I've known her for twenty-six years and in all that time I've never kissed her except on the cheek._

_And that didn't seem right?_

_Well, it seemed…strange?_

_Why?_

_Because I know her so well. We know everything about each other. Shouldn't I know what it's like to kiss her?_

_But she's your friend—your sister-in-law. Your best friend's wife._

_I know,_ damn it.

_So why did you really want to do it? Honestly._

Harry paused, his fingers loosening around the six-pack.

_Her...Her lips were beautiful. In that moment, she was absolutely beautiful._

_So you did it out of an attraction to her?_

_Well, yes. But it was only for that moment._

_So you'd never do it again?_

_Never? I mean... I doubt it will come up again._

_So you would do it again, if it came up?_

_I mean, I wouldn't say no. It's not like the kiss itself was unpleasant. It was…_

_You're talking like you're attracted to Hermione, perhaps even having feelings of lust?_

_Lust. I don't know. That's such a strong word. Do I think she's attractive, stunning? Yes. But that doesn't mean I want to sleep with her. She's my best friend. I can certainly just love her as my best friend and have some odd lustful feelings for her on the side, can't I?... I know that doesn't sound right, but lots of men feel that way about their female friends, right?_

_...Hmm, let's ask another question: Why did you have sex with Ginny last night?_

_Well, she sort of started it, didn't she?_

_But you didn't want to do it._

_I know that, but it's not like I can say 'no' to her when she gets going like that. It would be very rude, wouldn't it? She's my wife._

_There was another reason you did it though, wasn't there? Something relating to Hermione._

_What? The fact that sleeping with Ginny helped me stop thinking about Hermione? Yes, okay. That's the answer you're looking for. And it worked for a while…I don't regret it._

_But you do._

_..._

_Why do you regret it?_

_...Because I thought of her. I thought of Hermione. I thought for a moment-wanted for a moment-for it to be her._

_So, what does that tell you?_

_That I have some lustful feelings for Hermione…and that they're ruining my life. I can't work and I can't be with my wife. I've got to buckle down on them or I'll do something truly stupid._

_Sure, that's one way to see it._

_What's the other way?_

_Well, tell me this—what's your strongest fear right now._

_I have a shit ton of 'fears' right now! Ginny finding out about the kiss, for starters. Seeing Ron after I've kissed his wife. Not seeing Lily enough. That damned Callahan case…_

_But what's your biggest fear?_

He paused.

_That Hermione won't speak to me._

"Your ticket, sir?"

Harry looked up, startled. He was at the front of the line without noticing how his feet got him there. The butcher stared at Harry as if he were insane. At least he didn't seem to recognize who Harry was. Harry handed him the ticket and his order was ready in less than a minute.

Harry walked out of the store as confused as he had entered.

  


_Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_ was drawing closer in Harry's sight as he zigzagged between groups of shoppers and street merchants. He was piecing together a few things in his head.

Yes, he had lusted after Hermione in the forest. The reason he couldn't stop thinking about the incident, however, was only due to the fact that the experience of kissing Hermione (and the subsequent feelings that came with that) was entirely new. It had naturally led Harry to obsess over it. But, at their core, he and Hermione were just friends—which meant lustful feelings were not only inappropriate, but dangerous given their present circumstances.

Harry nodded to himself as he came to this conclusion. Some part of him knew his reasoning was far too simple, but it was the best he had at the moment. He was a few steps away from the brightly colored windows of Ron's store when he heard a voice call his name, a voice he could have placed anywhere.

"Harry!"

Harry spun on his heel, searching for Hermione.

And then, he spotted her.

_Fuck. She's gorgeous again._

Harry froze as Hermione approached him. It looked as though she had been waiting for him, leaning against the wall of the shop directly facing her husband's. She was smiling slightly, wearing a deep purple coat with navy leather gloves. Her hair was loose and caught the September sun, giving her face a soft radiance.

 _"Hermione!"_ Harry said. Did that come out as a gasp?

"Hi," Hermione replied, simply. She was very direct. "I wanted to talk to you. Do you have time to step into a café or something?"

"Um," Harry stammered. He looked at the bags of groceries in his hands and then glanced at the store, which had been his destination. He could think of no other answer than, "yes. Were you waiting for me?"

Hermione smiled with some embarrassment. "I guess I was. How about Fortescue's? It's just around the corner."

Harry nodded, still staring at her. As they walked down the street, Harry tried not to let his mind run away with him. What could she want to talk to him about? Was she here to yell at him or something else entirely?

Hermione requested an outdoor table far away from the street and the two were quickly seated once the hostess realized who Harry and Hermione were. The waitress placed a menu in Harry's hands and he absentmindedly looked through the selection of ice cream sundaes, hot drinks, and pastries. Harry glanced at the name at the top of the menu, Florean Fortescue. He had been killed during Voldemort's second rise and Harry had a brief flash to his third year when the kindly old gentleman had given him free sundaes every half hour.

When the waitress had taken their orders (two macchiatos), Hermione finally spoke.

"Harry," she said, a strange look on her face. "I don't know if you've thought much about what happened yesterday…but I've been thinking about it a lot. I think we had better talk about it before things become awkward…"

Harry nodded quickly in agreement. He became hopeful at her words. It was just like Hermione to want to resolve a difficult situation as painlessly as possible.

"I'm still not sure what came over us in the forest, but it obviously wasn't a good idea," Hermione began. Harry could see her twisting her fingers under the wrought-iron table. "I think it was probably a combination of factors that led me to do that. Things have been so stressful at work these past few weeks, and what with the kids leaving for school and Ron being…I don't know... Things can get out of control, right? And you sort of end up doing foolish things. I'm sure you've thought something similar?"

Harry felt himself nodding, but his stomach was turning to lead. Kids, work, her husband. These were the reasons she had kissed him. _He,_ on the other hand, had kissed her out of lust. He had taken advantage of her in her weakened state…

The waitress appeared with their drinks and the couple fell silent.

"Anyway," Hermione continued as the waitress moved onto the next table, "I just wanted to let you know that I hold none of this against you. You're my best friend. I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that. When I was in the office earlier today, I realized that from a practical standpoint, things _can't_ be awkward between us. We have to work together on the Callahan case after all."

Harry nodded again.

"So, what happened yesterday," Hermione concluded, looking down as she slowly stirred her coffee, "was just a one-time thing. And I'm sorry if it caused you any worry…"

There was silence for a long moment, the dim hum of the café pressing against Harry's ears. He tried to think of anything to say in response…but, somehow he couldn't shake the feeling of profound disappointment. The way she was able to compartmentalize the whole situation, to just treat what had happened as a fluke that could be easily sorted into the "Miscellaneous" file in her brain…Harry wished he could be so detached.

Because that's what Hermione was, detached. He glanced at her quickly. Her eyes reflected the restaurant back at him. Harry tried to pull his disparate thoughts together.

"It didn't cause me any worry," Harry lied quickly. "It was just a one-time thing, like you said. We can forget about it, if you like. I was only worried you were upset with me, and for that I'm really sorry…"

"I'm really sorry too," she interjected. She reached across the table and laid her hand atop of his. "I really am. I won't do something so stupid again."

"You weren't exactly the only guilty party, Hermione," he said, not looking at her.

She laughed lightly, removing her hand. A more companionable silence seemed to fall between them. Though Harry would have to process his disappointment later, he began to realize he and Hermione had achieved some sort of rapprochement.

Harry was just thinking of telling Hermione about his conversation with Lakey when she lowered her coffee mug. A thin line of foam remained on her top lip.

"Hermione," he said, gesturing to her face. "You've got a bit…"

"What? Cream?" she asked. She brushed it carelessly away with the tip of her tongue.

Harry tried to stop his eyes. He truly did. But from the instant he saw her tongue run across her lips, he couldn't stop the mental image that came next: him leaning over their tiny table to take her lips again...

"Uh, you got it."

Harry shook his head slightly as Hermione spoke again.

"Harry, can I ask you something? Have you told Ginny about what happened?"

Harry looked up immediately. "No, not at all. Why?"

"No reason. I was just thinking that I really _can't_ tell Ron, you know?" She lowered her voice slightly. "The situation…both of us kissing in the exact same spot where Ron had a vision of us doing just that nineteen years ago, well…"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, smiling despite himself. "That is the sort of stuff emotional trauma is made of."

"Exactly." She looked relieved to hear him say that.

Determined to change the subject, Harry said, "Lakey came into my office today. Looks like no Imperious Curse?"

"Looks like," Hermione said, stirring her coffee again. "I also spoke with Callahan's counselor at noon. Looks like Callahan will plead guilty."

Harry felt a wave of relief wash through him. "That's good news, isn't it?"

Hermione shrugged. "That or he's looking for a plea bargain. Though, I can't shake the feeling that his counselor wants to bring this to trial…"

"This is the counselor you chose for Callahan, the one who hates Muggle-borns?"

Hermione sighed. "Hates? More like has a strong disposition against, but yes. His name is Edward Bruton. He's upwards of ninety-years old from an old pure-blood family. He never joined Voldemort, but was famously supportive of the anti-Muggle legislation during that time."

Harry considered her troubled face for a moment. He wanted to say something reassuring, something about how she could out-argue, out-litigate an old racist in her sleep, but his thoughts were interrupted.

A jarringly familiar voice called their names.

"Hermione? Harry?"

They both spun in their seats. It was Ron. He was carrying two large boxes and looked shocked to see his wife and his best friend sitting in the back of a café together.

He walked towards them, pushing his way through the small tables. Harry felt paralyzed as he watched Ron approach.

"Well, what are you two doing here?" Ron asked, a bemused smile on his face.

"We decided to grab a late lunch, darling," Hermione lied easily. "We've been discussing a case both of us have been working on."

"Oh," Ron said, looking between them and then down at the table. "You only had coffee for lunch?"

Hermione laughed, a little too forcibly but still believable in Harry's opinion. "No, we just finished. We were just wrapping up with some caffeine. I'm heading back to the office before we head over to Harry's and Ginny's, so I'll need it," she explained.

"Oh right!" Ron said. "Harry, I was supposed to meet you a half hour ago, wasn't I? Sorry, mate. The bloke who brings in our Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder couldn't find our address, so I had to hunt him down all over Diagon Alley. Got it though," he said, lifting the boxes slightly.

"Great," Harry said, trying to put a decent smile on his face. His neck felt exceptionally warm.

"Well, I guess I'll be heading back," Hermione said. She swallowed down the rest of her coffee and stood. "Thanks for meeting me, Harry," she said with genuine gratitude on her face. Turning to Ron she said, "I'll see you at dinner."

She took some money out of her purse (considerably more than was necessary, but they were now supposedly paying for a full lunch) and placed it on the table. She looked meaningfully at Harry before she kissed Ron on the cheek and disapparated. Harry matched Hermione's amount with his own and he and Ron moved back towards the street. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw their waitress staring at the small pile of galleons left on the table.

Harry shook his head. Their small act of deception should benefit someone.

  


All in all, Harry was surprised by his ability to hold a conversation with Ron. Luckily, Ron was particularly chatty tonight and Harry made sure to steer the discussion down the familiar avenues of Quidditch, stocking his shop, and the kids. Hermione and Ginny had not yet arrived and Lily and Hugo were studying, or more likely playing, upstairs.

Harry and Ron were in the kitchen. Ron was peeling the corn and dropping the husks onto the floor while Harry set up the chicken. Harry had just placed the chicken on the small grill set into the stove when he heard the kitchen door swing open.

"Ron!" Ginny cried, dropping her things in the foyer and coming to Ron's side. She embraced her older brother and kissed him on the cheek. She turned to Harry. "Sorry I'm a bit late, darling," she said. "My editor wanted me to rework one of the articles by our new writer…"

Ron chuckled. "Always correcting others' mistakes…"

Ginny sighed, agreeing. "Well, someone has to do it. Half the articles wouldn't be written if I wasn't around," she complained.

Harry smiled slightly at her words, placing another chicken cutlet on the grill. A moment later he felt Ginny's arms wrapping around his torso. A few moonlit memories surfaced in his brain and Harry felt himself breaking free from her grasp.

"Pepper," he said as he moved down the counter.

Ginny didn't seem to mind. "My boys are working hard aren't they?" she said teasingly. "Tell me, what's the theme for tonight?"

"Theme?" Ron repeated.

Harry laughed. Usually when the girls organized their weekly Wednesday dinner they magicked up some theme—Arabian nights, Chinese, Continental European. When it came to Harry and Ron, they usually rummaged around in the pantry until they found enough food to feed six people.

"Well, we have corn and we have chicken," Harry said simply, flipping one piece of chicken with his wand. "What does that tell you?"

Ginny sighed. "That you didn't put any thought into it at all. But I guess we can tell Hermione…Western?"

Ron chuckled. "She won't give a damn what it is. She's been so busy lately she hardly notices what she's eating. I came home last week and she was sitting in the living room eating out of a tub of ice cream while going through some files."

Ron laughed and Ginny joined him. But Harry felt a mild twinge of anger that he couldn't quite explain. Hermione was the type of person who focused on her work to the detriment of her health. Food was not particularly important to her, unless it helped her stay awake longer. It was something she and Harry had in common. For their Weasely spouses, however, their mother's cooking had inculcated in them a belief that food was to be treated very seriously.

Harry was just summoning a large pot when the door swung open again. Hermione walked in looking exhausted but happy.

"Hi guys," she said cheerily. "What's for dinner?"

"Corn and chicken," Ron answered.

"Oh," Hermione said, puzzled. "…Western?"

The other three broke into laughter, increasing Hermione's confusion.

"What's so funny?" she asked, smiling as she propped up her briefcase against the doorjamb and moved into the kitchen.

"Nothing," Ginny replied, moving forward her to embrace her. "We were just settling on a theme, and we're glad you confirmed it."

Ron stood up from his station with the corn and wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist. He was a full head taller than Hermione and stooped down to place a kiss on her temple. She looked distracted.

"Where are the kids?" she asked.

"Upstairs studying," Harry responded.

"Oh, so playing?" Hermione guessed. "I think I'll go check on them. I'll be right back."

"Oh, c'mon Hermione," Ron called after her as his wife moved towards the grand staircase. "Just let them alone, will you?"

Hermione didn't answer and soon they heard her feet climbing the stairs towards Lily's room. Harry chuckled.

"I don't know how many times I've said that in my life," Ron sighed.

Hermione returned five minutes later looking satisfied.

"Were they working?" Ginny asked, sitting next to Ron at the table.

"No, but they are now. I put an anti-procrastination charm on the door, so I'll know if they act up again."

"God, Hermione," Ron moaned. He was shucking his last ear of corn. "You take all the joy out of life, do you know that? Terrifying kids and all that."

"Be quiet," she said sharply, though Harry could tell Ron's comment had hurt her. It was in her eyes. "It's a Wednesday night. What are we supposed to do? Just let them neglect their schoolwork? Absolutely not. They can play all they want after dinner."

Ron shrugged. He stood and brought the corn to Harry who ignited a flame underneath the large pot of water. The water instantly came to a boil and Ron tossed in the corn.

"So, what else do we need?" Ron asked seriously. "Any bread?"

"Yeah, check the pantry," Harry replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione sit down at the table with Ginny. Hermione picked up a corn husk left behind by her husband and began flipping it over distractedly.

"How is the case coming, Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Harry told me you two have been really busy?"

"It's all right," Hermione answered. "The defendant has his arraignment on Saturday. Then we'll take it from there…"

"Oh," Ginny said. There was silence for a moment. "Do you…think he actually did what they're saying about him?"

" _I_ believe he did. It's my job to convince everyone else that he did it too," Hermione said, somewhat curtly.

"Yeah, but Harry's told me what a good Auror he was. Why would he even do something like that?"

"Maybe because he's an anti-Muggle bigot who finally couldn't take it anymore?"

Harry thought he saw Ginny roll her eyes. "C'mon Hermione. You can't accuse everyone who doesn't behave absolutely perfectly towards Muggles of being a bigot. Wizards simply can't treat Muggles like they are the same as us. They aren't. And there's nothing anyone can do about that, unfortunately. To me, it sounds like he's being persecuted for doing his job."

Hermione grew very still. Harry could practically feel the tension surrounding the two women. _"Doing his job?" _Hermione repeated scathingly. "Ginny, I think it's—"__

Ron returned suddenly. "I can't find the bread."

"Ginny, would you show him where it is?" Harry called out in her direction. "I've got my hands full here," he said, gesturing at the grill.

Ginny stood, giving him a strange look as she moved towards the pantry.

Harry glanced at Hermione over his shoulder. She was not looking at him. She seemed mesmerized by the husk of corn in her hands. As Harry was about to turn away, she lifted her head in his direction and smiled somewhat ruefully.

He smiled back. He felt an odd compulsion to come to her side, to tell her convincing the wizarding public to condemn an Auror was always going to be difficult, but she'd win out in the end. She always did...

But instead he turned back to the stove as Ginny and Ron returned from the pantry.

Twenty minutes later, the food was ready and Harry set the dining room table for six people. He situated Lily between himself and Ginny on one side of the table, while Hermione took the seat directly opposite Harry with Hugo next to her.

The kids stumbled down the stairs, looking ecstatic to be away from the procrastination charm. Lily ran towards her mother and wrapped her arms around Ginny's waist. Ginny patted Lily's head before she moved to sit down at the table.

The rest of the dinner passed amiably enough. The kids drove the conversation with their stories of petty injustices and small triumphs at school. Ginny and Ron invariably slipped into discussing Quidditch and Hermione grilled Lily and Hugo on an upcoming history exam. Harry sat listening to both conversations, trying to keep a peaceable look on his face.

He felt he was looking at Hermione too much. He had never thought about how much he looked at her in the past. But now it felt like he couldn't go three seconds without his eyes flashing to her face. Harry felt it must be incredibly obvious to everyone at the table what he was doing, but no one seemed to notice anything. He tried to time himself between glances, but counting the seconds only seemed to heighten his desire to look at her.

He couldn't explain what he was trying to find in her face—maybe some assurance that things were returning to normal between them, or that they shared some secret confidence now? He didn't know.

Harry was picking up his knife to eat the remainder of his chicken when he felt a stockinged foot run against his leg. He looked up, startled. Hermione was looking back at him.

 _"Sorry,"_ she mouthed.

Harry nodded quickly. _It was a mistake,_ he thought instantly. _She didn't mean…_

He refused to follow his thoughts any further, and a moment later Lily helped distract him from Hermione's wandering foot.

"Daddy," she said in her high, yet clear voice, "me and Hugo have to come up with a project for the Christmas Pageant on our favorite heroes."

"Heroes?" Harry repeated distractedly.

"Yes," Lily said. "And I wanted to pick you, daddy," she said shyly.

"Oh," Harry said, not liking the sound of this. "Are you supposed to pick someone you _know_ as your hero or any hero will do?"

"Any hero," Lily answered. "I think most everyone in the class is picking Quidditch players and famous wizards…"

"Oh, then sweetie…" Harry began, trying to think of a way to encourage her to pick someone else. It wasn't that he didn't want to be his daughter's hero. Indeed, the fact that she had thought of him made him very happy, but he didn't want people to think she hadn't given any thought to her project…

Luckily Ron overheard their conversation and stepped in. "Oh, can't you be a bit more original, Lily?" Ron said with a sarcastic smile. "Your Uncle Ron is a very famous wizard," he said, physically puffing himself up. "Your Aunt Hermione has her own Chocolate Frog card," he threw in.

"You _all_ have Chocolate Frog cards!" Hugo piped up.

"Yes, all except your Aunt Ginny," Ginny corrected him, teasingly. "Which I've never understood! I was there at the Battle of Hogwarts. Don't I deserve a card too?"

"Not everyone at the Battle can have their own card, Ginny," Ron returned, side-tracked. "Harry, Hermione, and I are the ones who actually destroyed stuff. You just stayed in school…"

"Stayed in school!" Ginny repeated, suddenly indignant. "School was no picnic that year, as you know, Ronald Weasley. And tell me this? Who tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor to save your arse?"

"Ginny," Harry warned, looking at Lily.

"Yeah, a _fake_ sword," Ron returned to his sister.

Ginny shot daggers at him before saying very coolly, "Well, at least I didn't abandon my friends when they needed me."

Ron grimaced. Harry shot a look at Hermione, who returned it. Hugo was staring at his father, not understanding.

Hermione spoke. "Really you two, there's no need to rehash the past. Lily," she said, turning to Harry's daughter, "your father is a excellent choice for a hero, but don't let that stop you from considering who you really want your project to be for the Pageant. It doesn't have to be your daddy. You can pick anyone you like."

Harry looked at Hermione gratefully.

Lily considered this. "Okay," she said slowly. "We do have to _dress up_ as our hero, so I don't think I really want to dress up as daddy," she giggled.

Harry smiled.

"Maybe, I'll pick Aunt Hermione?" she offered, looking innocently up at Harry.

It was Hermione's turn to look uncomfortable. Harry laughed aloud at the look on Hermione's face, and then stopped laughing altogether at the look on Ginny's.

"Well," Harry said, patting Lily on the shoulder. "Just do some thinking about it, sweetie. You've got a long time until Christmas."

Hermione smiled. After a moment she turned to Hugo. "Who are you picking Hugo?"

Hugo looked at her and said quite plainly, "Damien Donovan."

Everyone at the table laughed, breaking the tension. Donovan was a Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons who had recently retired with one of the best records in the League.

"Oh," Ginny said, herself again. She had interviewed Donovan several times. "I didn't know you liked him so much, Hugo! Let me know when you start your project and I can arrange a little get-together for you both. How does that sound?"

Hugo absolutely beamed at his aunt. "Thanks Aunt Ginny!"

  


By the time they finished dinner it was nearly nine o'clock. Harry went upstairs to open Albus' room so that Hugo could sleep in it until his parents were ready to leave. Ginny took Lily to her own room to get ready for bed.

Harry was descending the grand staircase when he heard Ron and Hermione in heated conversation. He slowed his steps, listening hard. They were in the library, just to the right of the staircase.

"You're coming home so late, I'm having to handle _everything,_ Hermione. Everything. I've made dinner the last five nights in a row and you know I can't keep Hugo on top of his work…" Ron was saying in a sharp whisper.

"Oh, so I guess all those years _I_ made dinner everyday were never a problem until you had to do it yourself," Hermione said sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant. I just mean you're not pulling your weight at home. Hugo is asking where you are all the time. What am I supposed to tell him?"

Hermione took a slow breath. "Tell him that his mum is working very hard on a very important case and that he should _support_ her when she's working so hard for the family."

Silence. "How can you support someone that puts work before her family?" Ron asked. Harry came to the bottom of the steps.

Harry couldn't hear a sound for several seconds. Finally, Hermione spoke. Her voice was breaking. "Ron, you don't understand. You never do. I'm not choosing this at all. I'm just so…I have to do this. Making me feel guilty on top of it all doesn't help. I can't—"

There was some shuffling and then silence. Harry cautiously stepped towards the kitchen but soon heard the door open behind him. Ron and Hermione emerged and Harry turned to look at them. Hermione's eyes were red, but she was otherwise unchanged. She smiled when she saw Harry.

"So what are we doing for the rest of the night?" she asked.

Harry smiled, and shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I didn't ask if Ginny had anything planned."

Ron let out an enormous sigh. "Well, if it was up to me—and maybe Ginny too—we could all go back to our house. The Arrows are playing the Cannons right now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, we know how much you're dying to go back and see that…"

At that moment, Ginny appeared at the top of the stairs and swiftly ran down to join them. "Were you leaving? I just put Hugo to bed in Al's room. Why don't we watch the game or something? I know we don't have a set up like you do Ron, but ours will work well enough, don't you think?"

Ron nodded approvingly at his sister. "I'll manage," he said in faux disappointment.

They moved to the back of the house towards the entertainment room. Harry was a little excited to watch a Quidditch match after so many months, and followed closely behind the redheaded siblings. They entered a dimly lit room set up like a movie theater. A large projection screen was against the far wall. Ron instantly moved towards the projector, waved his wand, and the game appeared. Ginny and Ron settled themselves in the front row, while Hermione and Harry followed more slowly behind.

"Drinks anyone?" Harry offered.

"What have you got?" Ron asked over his shoulder. He was wincing, having just watched a Cannons chaser fall to ground after a nasty hit by a bludger.

"Wine. Firewhiskey. Beer…" Harry said.

"Beer is good," said Ron.

"Same," Ginny called out.

Harry looked towards Hermione.

"I'll come help you," she said quietly.

They moved out the room, neither speaking as they walked slowly towards the kitchen. Harry removed two Redstones from the icebox and took a bottle of wine down from the rack above the pantry. Harry uncorked the bottle with a flick of his wand and poured a liberal amount of wine into his glass.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, moving towards him.

"It's a claret, 2011."

"Oh, vintage," Hermione giggled. "I'll have some too."

Harry summoned another glass and slowly poured the ruby liquid again. "Hermione," he asked, corking the wine. "Are you all right?"

She stared at him for a moment. Then, comprehension seemed to dawn on her face. "I'm guessing you overheard some of my conversation with Ron?"

Harry nodded, slightly uncomfortable. Yet, it wasn't as if he had never heard them argue before. In the early days of Ron and Hermione's relationship, Harry felt like he heard them bicker constantly, oftentimes very loudly…and in public places.

Hermione sighed. "I just…I don't mean to complain about this to you, Harry… But ever since I told him about Lakey's job offer, Ron's been very…difficult."

"More difficult than usual?" Harry couldn't help saying.

Hermione smiled slightly. "Yes, I suppose so. He just—he doesn't seem to understand how important this is to me…I need him to be supportive, to be on my side. But he's just—"

She stopped, looking back at Harry as she slowly swilled her wine. They were both leaning against the counter now, bodies close to one another. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't be telling you all this. You don't want to hear it."

He shook his head. "Hermione, I was in the same situation with Ginny eight years ago before I was made Chief. I know what it's like…"

Hermione considered this for a moment before she smiled, her eyes aglow in the candle light of the now darkened kitchen. Harry tried to look away from her, but the depth he loved so much in her eyes had returned and he felt momentarily lost.

"I know you do," she said softly. "You're probably the only person I know who knows what this is like—having success at work and then having it mean nothing at home. It's, I don't know…not what I expected?"

"Right. You expect them to be glad for you, but all they do is remind you what you're missing and how you've disappointed them."

"Exactly. I feel horrible about not being there for Hugo when he needs me, you know that. Sometimes when I get home very late, I'll sneak into Hugo's room and just lie down in bed with him for a few minutes. I really want to wake him up and have him talk to me—just because I know Ron is just going to be cold towards me…"

Harry nodded. He had experienced the same thing with Ginny. "He shouldn't be like that. You should tell him how much that bothers you. He can see how important your work is right now and he'll try to accommodate that, I'm sure."

Hermione laughed lightly. "Accommodate? When has Ron ever accommodated me? In fact, I think he's starting to resent the fact that I even work at all. There's really no need, you know? The stores are doing wonderfully. The one in Hogsmeade is making Galleons by the second when the students come in. A government salary isn't much in comparison."

Harry nodded slightly, feeling it was best not to mention that Chief Auror was one of the most highly paid positions in the Ministry.

"Well, there are really only two solutions," Harry said quietly before taking a sip wine. "You either give up some of your work or you make Ron understand that he has to help you during this time. He's not thick enough to demand that you cut back on your work if that's not what you really want."

Hermione looked down. "I hope you're right…I don't want to give up work. Not with _this_ case at least. But I don't want to make him unhappy either…"

Harry felt something pull within him. He detected a soft lilt in her voice when she said that last sentence, making him slightly annoyed. For a moment, Harry wished Hermione would speak of him that way… Without thinking, he reached out a hand and placed it over hers.

"It'll be all right, Hermione," he said softly. "He'll understand. He loves you, so he'll understand."

"I guess we'll see," she said, glancing up at Harry. "Thanks for your help…"

She paused. They were so close now and she slowly raised her head. Her lips touched the base of his jawline, near the neck. It was the highest point she could reach. Instantly, Harry felt the same dark impulse shoot through his spine, shaking him. Her head had moved to the hollow of his neck and her arms wrapped around his waist. Instinctively, Harry pulled her against his chest. He rested his chin atop her head and they held one another for several minutes. He breathed in her soft scent and allowed the warm tingling on his neck to fade away.

As he held her, Harry couldn't help wondering: _Is this what it will be like between us now?_

Harry was not able to wonder about it long. Hermione extricated herself from the embrace and picked up her wine. "We should get the drinks to them, shouldn't we?"

Harry nodded. In silence, they moved back through the darkened house.


	7. The Snitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ AND REVIEW!

Harry did not see Hermione for several days after that.

Her absence allowed him to be more productive at work, but nevertheless he found his thoughts often turning towards his best friend. But Harry's work situation was further improved by several days without any developments in the Callahan case. Harry remained hopeful that a few quiet weeks could return things to normal among his rank and file Aurors.

All that said, Harry unlocked his office door Saturday afternoon with a slight feeling of trepidation. Right then, Hermione and John Lakey were in Gloucester sitting in a regional Wizengamot courtroom for Callahan's arraignment. Earlier that day, Harry had been distressed to learn from Ginny that the _Prophet_ had sent more than one reporter to cover the proceedings.

Now, Harry sat in the maze of Auror cubicles surrounding his office. He was listening to a briefing from one of his more trusted Aurors. His name was George Durkheim, a man of small, but stocky, stature. He had dark brown hair and a grizzly face; he had joined the force eight years ago and had a cutting intellect.

"…So that was when Regina left to inform the regional council. I was left alone with the Muggle family and drafted a report with them. All that had been stolen were a few family heirlooms and 'round eight hundred in Muggle currency. Credit cards untouched."

"Any witnesses?" Harry asked.

"No, Chief. Whoever it was did everything in the middle of the night. Didn't even wake up the family. Definitely a wizard though; no forced entry on the premises and I cast a few revelatory spells. There was a definite whiff around the family safe and in their parlor."

Harry sighed. "That's the sixth Muggle robbery in Bristol this year. Higher than average. We'll keep an eye on it. Send a memo to Carson Martel and ask him for his personnel preferences—I'm going to send him two more Aurors until the end of the year."

"Yes, sir," Durkheim replied. "Anything else?"

Just then, Harry spied a slight figure quickly making its way towards him from the golden elevators. Even from a distance he could tell it was Hermione. She looked anxious. Durkheim followed Harry's eyes and, upon spotting Hermione, turned back towards his boss.

"Right, Chief. I'll leave you to it."

Harry watched Hermione approach, barely noticing Durkheim take his leave.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked as soon as she was in earshot.

"Can I have a moment with you?"

"Sure. My office?" he asked, sliding off Durkheim's desk.

Hermione nodded curtly.

Once Harry had closed the door, Hermione spoke. "He pled not guilty, Harry. They lied to us."

"What?" Harry said, dumbfounded. "I thought Bruton said he'd plead guilty? How can he even try that? We did a fucking _priori incantatem_ on his wand. We know he cast those spells—and there was no Imperious Curse involved. What are they playing at?"

"I know. I know," Hermione said, shaking her hands in front of her as she paced around the room. "It makes no sense. Bruton simply doesn't have the evidence for that plea. John and I had come in prepared to offer him an eighty-year sentence and medical compensation for the Camerons. Generous considering the circumstances. Bruton has to be trying for some ridiculous play for public sympathy. Otherwise, I don't know what he's pulling... But Harry, there's more."

"What?"

"As I was leaving the courtroom, I stayed behind to answer some questions from the press. One of the reporters from the _Prophet_ asked me what I thought about the magical evaluation."

Harry stared blankly at her, lost for words. He looked down and walked to his desk.

Hermione was exceptionally contrite. "I am so sorry. There was no way we could have known the press would look into the arraignment amendments and see Anne's report. Apparently there were four or five _Prophet_ reporters there alone, so I guess some of them had nothing else to do but rummage through the paperwork…I'm so sorry."

Harry ran both hands through his tousled hair. _"Fuck._ So, this will be in tomorrow's edition?"

"Most likely," Hermione answered. "The Sunday edition," she added reluctantly.

Harry cursed again—the _Sunday Prophet_ was the most widely circulated edition of the wizarding newspaper.

"Can Lakey do anything?" Harry demanded.

"I've already spoken with him. Apparently, the _Prophet_ hasn't been too helpful—they don't seem particularly interested in the facts of the case, as they were released a few days ago. The evaluation is shiny, new information."

"What did you say to the _Prophet_ about the evaluation?"

"I said something like 'the extreme circumstances of the case warranted a thorough investigation, which included a magical evaluation…'"

Harry groaned loudly. "Hermione, that's just it! No one yet thinks this case is extreme. They think _your_ department is being extreme by prosecuting this man!"

Hermione's temper flared. "Harry, the facts _are_ extreme! Anyone can see that! Muggle Legilimency? The _Cruciatus?_ Permanent Oblivation? Who cannot be disgusted by the facts of this case?"

Harry sighed. "Hermione, I know the facts are extreme, but you have to see it from the point of view of an average person. Most wizards don't know many Muggles so they haven't internalized what it means to do all that horrible shit to them. The politics of Muggle rights hasn't reached a point where people fully condemn affronts against them. You know that…"

"All I know is that you shouldn't worry about the _politics_ of anything, Harry Potter," said Hermione furiously. "It's _your_ job to defend the laws of this country, right? That means you defend Muggles from torture by wizards, doesn't it? If you can't carry out your job, then perhaps you had better hand it over to someone who will!"

Harry glared at her for a moment, refusing to give in to the shame Hermione wanted to heap on him. He could tell she was angrier at the situation than at him. "You know I am the most pro-Muggle Auror Chief this department has had in decades. Do you really want to throw out accusations like that?"

Hermione looked chastened, a feat Harry rarely accomplished.

She looked at her feet. "I know. I'm not blaming you, Harry…but you've got to tell people that the evaluation was necessary. They'll trust your opinion…"

Harry gaped at her. "Hermione! I didn't even know about the evaluation until five minutes before it happened! That was your and Lakey's call. Might I remind you that I also put a media blackout on all my Aurors about this case, which includes myself."

Hermione swallowed and approached his desk. "I know that, Harry. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think it was necessary. I know this isn't your jurisdiction anymore. There's no reason for me to be in this office right now, besides the fact that I need your help…as a friend."

Harry exhaled slowly, shaking his head. They both knew that Hermione had just thrown down the "friend card." That unassailable pact all three of them had made when they were eleven. When one of them truly needed something, you did it. No more arguments.

"Fine. I'll provide a statement. Two sentences, tops."

"Thank you," Hermione said, relieved.

Ten minutes later Harry and Hermione had composed a carefully crafted statement from the Chief of the Auror Department of the Ministry of Magic.

_The Auror Department condemns the actions of ex-Auror Theo Callahan. The nature of his case required that all available means be employed to determine the facts and defend the laws of wizarding Britain._

_Signed,_

_Harry J. Potter_   
_Chief of the Department of Aurors_   
_Ministry of Magic_

"Could be more forcibly worded…" Hermione mumbled next to Harry, both leaning over a small sheaf of parchment. "And you didn't have to put 'wizarding' in front of Britain."

"Shut it. This is the best you're getting from me."

Hermione smiled, her lips close to his shoulder before she straightened. "Thank you."

Harry only smirked.

"No, I really mean it. I owe you. Anything you want, you got it," she said laughingly. "Need to embezzle some money? I promise my Department will turn a blind eye..."

Harry chuckled, handing her the parchment. "You don't owe me anything. Let's just call it even for your saving my arse over the years."

"Hmmm. I certainly hope you don't mean every time I saved you arse, because that's a debt I intend to collect very slowly and with interest."

Harry found himself laughing again. Yet, as Hermione collected her things he began to feel anxious once more.

"Hermione, wait" Harry called out as she moved towards the door.

He closed the short distance between them and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him curiously.

"Please be careful how you handle this," he said seriously. "One statement from me isn't going to turn the public in your favor. You can't expect everyone to have your high morals going into this. Just be…delicate, will you? It'd make me feel better," he threw in.

Hermione smiled at him. "Don't worry. I understand."

Harry sensed she was not taking him seriously. She was only saying what he wanted to hear...

She reached for the doorknob behind her.

"But you're wrong on one count," she said, turning. "We can't lower our morals to conform to the public. The public rises to our morals, even if it's difficult to take at first."

She shut the door before Harry could respond.

  


Harry arrived home at five o'clock completely exhausted. Before he left the AD, he briefed his Aurors on the news they would hear tomorrow concerning Callahan's arraignment. Harry stressed the need for all Aurors to remain aloof from the media. Politicizing the Auror Department was the last thing they needed; the public needed to trust that their law enforcers were impartial.

Harry also told them of the magical evaluation.

There were a few gasps and murmurs, at first. Yet, once Harry had explained the need for the examination (no witnesses, no clear motive, the severity of the injuries on the Muggles) most of the Aurors began to nod in agreement. However, Harry couldn't help noticing the stony faces of a rather large contingent of veteran Aurors in the back of the room. It was that small cadre of old guard Aurors that worried Harry.

Harry set his attaché down on the foyer table as he heard small feet running down the stairs. Harry looked up just as Lily flew into his arms. Over her scarlet hair, he saw two people emerge from the kitchen—Ron and Ginny.

"Hiya, sweetie," Harry said to Lily, kissing the top of her head and placing her on the ground.

"Daddy! Hugo's here too. He wants to fly in the backyard. Can we go? Please?" Lily squeaked, pulling hard on his hand.

"Sure, but turn on the safety wards and no going into the forest!" Harry called since Lily was already running up the stairs to fetch Hugo.

Harry turned towards Ron and Ginny.

"Hey, you," Ginny said, coming towards him. She quickly kissed him. "I got word at the _Prophet_ about the arraignment. Did you handle things all right with the Aurors?"

Harry sighed. "Mostly. At least there should be no surprises for them."

"And Hermione?" Ron asked.

"She seems to be managing things. Callahan pleaded not guilty, which is most likely a ploy for public sympaty…" Harry mumbled. Hermione's rhetoric seemed to rub off on him when she wasn't around.

"Huh," said Ginny lightly. "That's a lot to project on the guy right now, don't you think? He hasn't even been through trial…"

The three moved into the kitchen.

"Well, no. It's pretty clear that Callahan is guilty," Harry stated reasonably. _"Priori incantantem_ and the magical evaluation all point to him as the perpetrator."

Ginny shrugged while Ron moved towards the pantry.

Harry looked towards the kitchen table and saw several _Weasley Wizard Wheezes'_ catalogs open on its surface.

Harry was about to ask Ron a random question about catalog design so he wouldn't have to talk anymore when all three of them heard a small 'pop' in the entryway.

Hermione appeared a moment later, looking just as exhausted as Harry. Her hair was more frazzled than usual, her eyes bright.

"Ron," Hermione said, moving towards her husband at the counter. "I thought you'd be at home. I was going to fix dinner…"

Ron looked at her derisively. "Hugo had a play-date with Lily."

"Oh, right. Of course," Hermione said, distractedly running a hand through her hair.

As Harry saw Ron roll his eyes, he suddenly felt anger well up inside of him.

"I'm going to go check on the kids," Harry said, dismissing himself.

  


Harry sat in an armchair on the enormous back porch watching Lily and Hugo streak and dive through the air. Foam bludgers were careening around their heads while they passed the Quaffle to one another. The sun was beginning to set behind the small forest in the backyard, giving the sky a purplish glow. The leaves were changing color in earnest now and the wind had a mild chill to it.

He watched Lily pull off a rather complicated maneuver, scoring a goal on a nonexistent Keeper by zooming up from the ground and throwing the ball through the far left hoop. Lily had inherited her parents' Quidditch skills. Years of watching her mother play, while her father explained the rules to her in the stands, had made her quite the aficionado. She didn't like to flaunt her knowledge though, as Lily was all about keeping things girly. Yet, Harry could tell she would easily make a Hogwarts House team in three or four years' time.

Hugo had _also_ inherited his parents' Quidditch skills—meaning Hermione's nonexistent talent and fear of heights, and Ron's rather shaky control of a broom. When Hugo was younger, Ron had despaired that Hugo would be hopeless on the pitch. He used to say that the boy got Hermione's Muggle genes on the flying skills. But now Hugo was starting to resemble his father. He knew how to position himself to be in the right place at the right time, but he lacked the grace and agility of his cousin Lily.

Harry was just thinking how nice it would be to get out his Firebolt Mach7 and join the kids when he heard footsteps behind him. A moment later, someone was dangling a glass of whiskey in front of his face.

Harry moved his eyes upwards from the hand that held the much-needed libation until they landed on Hermione's face.

"Oh, thank you," he said, taking the glass gratefully.

Hermione moved to the wicker armchair beside him. "I figured you needed something stronger than wine after what I put you through today."

Harry watched her seat herself. She was holding a scotch and soda. They sat in silence for several minutes, watching Lily and Hugo dart around the field. Lily was giggling as she flew in circles around Hugo, holding the Quaffle out to him teasingly.

"What did you do with my statement?" Harry asked.

"I gave it to Don Holliday, the Ministry Spokesman. I had him contact the _Prophet_ immediately upon receipt. They said they'd run it in tomorrow's paper."

"Good," said Harry, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a quick swig.

"Everything should be all right," Hermione said, looking out at the pitch. "There's no need for you to worry."

Harry wanted to tell her that he _would_ worry. He was always going to worry as long as he felt she was in danger. Maybe he could begin to feel marginally better once Callahan was locked up for life in Azkaban. Yet, he stopped himself from saying this—he didn't want to place even more pressure on Hermione. He could tell she was very stressed.

They became silent again, sipping their drinks and watching the children. The field was growing darker as the light changed from light purple to deep pink and then into hazy greyness. Harry waved his wand at the outdoor lamps and they immediately ignited.

The sound of two sets of feet became louder from inside the house. Ron and Ginny emerged a moment later, carrying their own drinks.

"Hey guys," Ron said, his eyes on the children. "Thought we'd come join you. Ginny was giving me her advice on the new catalog for the store. She's better at this design stuff than either me or George."

"How is George doing?" Hermione asked.

"He's doing well. It's Roxanne's birthday in less than a month, so he's planning this elaborate gift to send her through the post. I said it would be embarrassing, but after she gets past the explosions, there is a lot of loot down in there that she can share with her friends."

"Ah, the joys of being the daughter of a joke-master," Hermione laughed.

Ginny looked at Hermione. "Speaking of birthdays, yours is less than two weeks away, isn't it Hermione?"

Hermione's face colored slightly.

"Yeah, what do you want us to do for it?" Ron asked.

Harry watched Hermione, smiling. She seemed to be struggling with the sudden attention.

"Nothing fancy. Just take me out to dinner or something?"

"Sure, we can do that," said Ron simply.

"Yeah, but what do you _want,_ Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Anything we can get you?"

Hermione laughed uncomfortably. "I haven't thought of anything. You don't have to get me presents. I think we're past the age when that's necessary…"

Ron made a retching sound. "Don't ever say that."

The four of them laughed, catching Lily's attention out on the darkened field. "Mum? Dad? Do you want to come play too?" she called.

"It's a bit late for that, sweetie!" Ginny called back.

"Aw, c'mon! Please?" Lily squealed, her pleading face just visible in the twilight.

Ginny turned to Harry, who shrugged. "Do you want me to get your broom?" she asked.

"Sure," Harry replied. "You can have the Mach7 if you want."

"Oh, thanks," Ginny said quickly and she passed back into the house with Ron behind her.

Harry looked back at Hermione. She had a sour look on her face. "So, thirty-eight years _old…"_

"Shut up."

  


A few minutes later, Ron and Ginny returned. Ginny was holding Harry's prototype Firebolt Mach7, which had been given to him by its maker, and her own older version of the Firebolt. Ron held the latest generation Comet.

Harry took Ginny's broom and heaved himself out of his armchair, feeling tired all over again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione give all three of them a dubious look.

"Not coming along, darling?" Ron called out sarcastically as he ran onto the field.

Harry heard Hermione mutter a soft _"ha ha ha"_ under her breath.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny flew into the air to join the children. In one blissful moment, Harry didn't feel tired anymore. He was back in the air—a place he had always felt he belonged. They maneuvered into a loose circle around the kids. Harry waved his wand at the outdoor lamps and they began to glow even brighter.

"So, what were you playing?" Ginny asked Lily and Hugo.

"We were just passing the Quaffle around. There's not much you can do with two people," Lily replied, swinging her legs on her Cleansweep 12.

"Well, we can have a short scrimmage," Ron suggested. "But there's only five of us. We need Hermione…" Ron finished, laughing at the thought.

Ron looked back towards the porch and called out to Hermione. "We need one more player, Hermione! Come and join us, why don't you?"

Harry turned to look at Hermione too. She had on her fuck-you-all face. They all laughed, but surprisingly Hermione got out of her chair.

"Do you still have that one broom? The one that doesn't move much?" she called to Harry.

"Yeah, the Silver Arrow?" Harry shouted. "It's in the shed. Should be right behind the door."

Without another word, Hermione stepped off the porch and walked around to the side of the house.

"Well, would you look at that," said Ginny, grinning.

"This should be hilarious," Ron snickered.

Hermione reemerged a minute later holding an old fashioned broom warily in her hands. She placed the broom on the ground.

"Up!" she said with as much force as possible. The broom did not move. "Up!" she said again, more testily. Still no movement.

"Up, you son of a…!" she said, cutting off the last word for the sake of the children.

Luckily, the broom shot upward into her hand. Hermione looked grimly satisfied. The three adults chuckled above her. Hugo and Lily were merely impatient.

She floated shakily towards to them. "I'll play as long as I'm Keeper," she said, continuing to float past them so that she had to speak over her shoulder, "and you only get to score through the middle hoop thing."

"Aw, c'mon Hermione!" Ron groaned.

"Those are the conditions," Hermione shouted, as Ginny flew a few feet forward and turned her around, back towards the group. "If not, I'm going back down right now."

"All right, all right," said Ginny laughing as she towed Hermione alongside her. "Those are the rules. Let's split ourselves up."

The strongest players were obviously Harry and Ginny, followed by Ron, Lily, and Hugo. They quickly decided that Hermione should be paired with one of the strong players, which turned out to be Ginny. Given the level of Hermione's ineptitude, she also got Ron on her team. That left Harry with the kids.

Harry herded Lily and Hugo to the other side of the pitch. Hugo wanted to be Keeper like his mother, so Harry and Lily took up their positions as Chasers. Harry would also play Seeker. For the opposing team: Hermione was Keeper, per her request, with Ron and Ginny as the Chasers. Ginny also played the double-role of Seeker.

Once the balls were released, the game was on. Harry flew forward with Lily. He seized the Quaffle and quickly passed it off to his daughter. He let her charge ahead towards her mother and uncle. It was beautiful to watch. The small girl controlled her broom perfectly, deflecting Ron's attempt to steal the Quaffle and delicately dodging a foam Bludger. She moved towards Hermione, who was basically sitting inside the middle hoop.

Lily hovered in front of Hermione in an attempt to lure her away from the goal. It worked, though Hermione seemed to know what Lily was trying to do. Lily faked left and Hermione followed. Ten points.

Harry cheered as Lily made her way back to him. This time, Ginny had the ball and she smiled dangerously at Harry.

"Go cover your uncle!" Harry shouted at his daughter. The redheaded girl streaked off towards Ron and Harry went to shadow Ginny. A moment later, however, a Bludger gave him a soft tap on the back and Harry pretended to fall away. Ginny charged off towards Hugo. Ten points.

The game progressed fairly evenly from then on. Ron and Ginny shouted at Hermione a few times to stop sitting in the hoop, but otherwise there were few problems. Whenever possible, Harry passed the Quaffle to Lily and focused on finding the Snitch. Harry had never much liked playing the position of Chaser. He'd rather give Lily the extra practice than improve his own Chasing skills. Hugo was doing decently, blocking just under half of all the attempted goals. At one point, Ron and Ginny double-teamed on Lily and Harry flew to her aid. He shot past all three of them and moved towards Hermione's goal post.

"Lily! Pass!" he shouted. The Quaffle came flying over Ron and Ginny's heads and landed squarely in Harry's arms. He turned and found himself face-to-face with Hermione.

He gave her a rakish half-smile. "Sorry about this."

He seized her wrist and swung her to the side. He easily tossed the Quaffle through the center hoop. Ron, Ginny, and the children laughed. Hermione gave Harry a haughty look, which she was still able to accomplish despite being nearly sideways on her broom after Harry's maneuver.

Harry gently touched her shoulder, setting her upright. His hand lingered there for several seconds. "You're doing good," he whispered to her.

"Shut up," she said again, though she was smiling.

The stars were out now. Both the children and the adults were starting to get hungry. They ordered the kids inside to wash up and change clothes while the adults gathered the equipment. Ron collected the foam Bludgers and placed them in their crate. Ginny tossed the Quaffle in as well. Finally, the Snitch needed to be found. They all darted about searching for the small flying ball, except Hermione, who stayed floating by the goal posts.

As Ron was saying, "We might as well call it a night and find it tomorrow," Harry spied the Snitch hovering by Hermione's head.

With a smile, he streaked off towards her. Ginny immediately knew what he was doing and gave chase. Hermione stared in horror as Harry and Ginny shot towards her. Harry watched as comprehension dawned on Hermione's face that she was the intended target. She let out a scream.

"Hermione! Don't move!" Harry yelled.

He and Ginny were shoulder to shoulder now and Harry roughly nudged her to send her off course. She pushed him back harder, however, and Harry over compensated.

It was too late for Hermione. As Ginny laughed, turning her head to look at Harry as he corrected himself, she flew headlong into Hermione. The two women went tumbling through the hoop towards the ground. Harry immediately darted below them to break their fall. The three of them landed in a tangled heap atop wet leaves and soft grass.

Harry had the wind knocked out of him as both women landed on top of him—Hermione first, then Ginny. He felt something hard pressing into his sternum.

"Unnh," Harry wheezed.

Ginny was laughing uncontrollably. _"Your face, Hermione!"_ she gasped. _"You should have seen it! So funny!"_

Harry tried to laugh too, but he was still breathless. Hermione was pressed flush up against him, Ginny on top of her. Hermione's head had been squished into his shoulder. He slipped a finger between himself and Hermione and retrieved the hard object that had been poking him in the chest. It was the Snitch. Its wings were beating feebly.

"Hermione?" Ginny was saying, rolling off of her. "Are you all right? We took quite a tumble."

Harry propped himself up on his elbows and lifted Hermione's face off his chest. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in a small "oh" of shock. They both stared at her and, after a moment, she spoke.

"What the _fuck_ was that?"

Harry and Ginny broke into fresh peals of laughter.

Harry looked down at the Snitch in his hand. No one had noticed he caught it—or more accurately, that he and Hermione had _jointly_ caught it. Carefully, he slipped the golden ball into Hermione's loose hand, which was pressed against his side. She was too dazed to notice.

Ginny brushed herself off and went to meet Ron, who was running towards them. Harry gently pushed Hermione into a sitting position. He kept his hands at her waist as she rubbed her forehead with her free hand.

"Yeah," she said with finality. "That's _definitely_ the last time I'm playing Quidditch."

"Yeah, but look," Harry whispered lightly in her ear, _"you_ caught the Snitch."

"I…what?" Hermione stammered. She looked down at her hand and her face broke into an expression of heart-breaking joy. "I caught—?" she repeated softly.

"You did," Harry replied.

Hermione looked at him in rapture. He was shocked to see tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I caught the Snitch?" she asked, smiling from ear to ear.

"Yes."

Hermione jumped to her feet and waved the Snitch wildly above her head. "Hey!" she called to Ron and Ginny. "Hey, look! _I_ caught the Snitch! Ha ha!"

She jumped around in a small circle, pressing the small golden ball to her chest.

Ron and Ginny had arrived. Ron offered Harry a hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Nice job, Hermione," Ron said, smiling at her.

Hermione ran towards him and kissed him quickly on the cheek. She did the same to Ginny, then Harry. Her hair was a mess and her white button-down shirt was covered in grass stains, but she looked absolutely ecstatic.

She placed the Snitch in her pocket and, without looking back at them, walked off towards the house. "I'm keeping this thing forever," she said.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny watched her go and then together moved towards the equipment crate.

"Are you going to tell her it's illegal for any player besides the Seeker to catch the Snitch?" Ginny asked.

"Not a chance," Harry said.

They laughed quietly to themselves.

It was amazing what a little whiskey and Quidditch could do to distract Harry from the calm before the storm.


End file.
